


All the Pretty Colours

by Snapes_Godess



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Depression, F/M, Marijuana, Medicinal Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: Hermione Granger thought that leaving the magical world was the answer to her mental health crisis. She left her work, her friends, part of her very soul behind in search of healing. It wasn't until a face from her past strolled into her life and disrupted her solitude that she began to see that she didn't need to fight alone.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 48
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This story contains the use of Medical Drugs for Mental health issues, Medicinal Marijuana Use, conversations around Depression and Anxiety. 
> 
> Hello, Readers!  
> It has been a long hiatus for me, I took a long break from writing and social media to deal with some pretty significant mental health issues that began long before the current state of the world. During this time I wrote this short little story as a way of coping. I am more terrified to post this story than any I have ever written. Hermione's experience in this story is MY experience with Major Depressive Disorder(MDD), High Functioning Generalized Anxiety Disorder (HFGAD), and Complex Trauma Post Traumatic Stress Disorder(CTPTSD). I am now doing quite well, stable on my medications and getting back to normal. I hope to pick up my writing and share more stories with you all. I am eager to write new stories as well as continuing my transfer from AFF to here.
> 
> I was inspired to begin writing again one night while sitting in my bed and staring at the rainbow cocktail of medication in my hand. It was then that I thought "Such pretty colors for such a terrible diagnosis..." and this story was born.
> 
> Again I want to reiterate that this is MY experience with mental health. This is how it went for me. Its not the same for everyone and every person copes differently, recovers differently, needs different interventions. Mental health isn't a one size fits all type of thing.
> 
> I want to warn you ahead of time that this may be triggering to some. It may be hard to read. Its not my usual comedy/romance (though there is some in there). 
> 
> If you, or anyone you know is dealing with mental health issues, please reach out to someone for help. The stigma is real, and so many suffer in silence. If you are thinking about harming yourself, or are concerned for someone else please call the Suicide Intervention Hotline:
> 
> US: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  
> Hours: Available 24 hours. Languages: English, Spanish. Learn more  
> 800-273-8255
> 
> Or contact a helpline through your country's health services.
> 
> Again, this wasn't easy to write and it is doubly difficult to share. Please be kind.  
> Happy writing,  
> S_G

All the Pretty Colours  
Written by Snapes_Goddess

Ocean Blue—For Sleep  
The alarm sounded shrill to her ears as Hermione slowly opened her eyes. She had chosen a “gentle chimes” tone that would begin softly then slowly increase in volume in an attempt to avoid being startled awake each day, but it didn’t work.  
Reluctantly she rolled over and reached for her phone, angrily tapping the stop icon before turning it facedown on the nightstand.  
To be honest, she wasn’t sure why she continued with the routine of waking up early. It wasn’t as if she had a job to go to, or children to care for, or any obligation at all.  
She could sleep all day, every day if she so desired. No one would notice. No one would care.  
Of course, no one knew where she was.  
It had been six months since she had taken her leave of the wizarding world. Six months since she had gone into hiding without letting anyone—including her family—know where she was.  
Her guilt ensured that she wouldn’t be going back to sleep, so with a groan she slowly rolled out of bed and shuffled to the en-suite.  
She didn’t bother turning on the light as she reached into the shower by memory and turned the water on. As she waited for it to heat up, she grabbed her toothbrush and began her morning routine, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror.  
She pulled her nightshirt over her head and tossed it in the general direction of the hamper. If it made it, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care.  
That was the problem. She didn’t care about anything and yet she worried over everything. As she stepped into the steamy confines of her tiny shower cubicle, she fought the spiraling thoughts that raced through her mind.  
She focused on the warm water cascading over her back as she closed the glass door behind her. She leaned her head back, let the blessed heat wash over the top of her head, soaking her hair as she prayed that it would wash the worry away and down the drain.  
While she washed her hair, she thought about how worried her friends and family must be. She knew they were looking for her and she went to great lengths to hide from them. She just didn’t have it in her to deal with them. With their feelings, with their expectations. And for that she felt horrible.  
As she washed her body, she thought about how hurt her parents had been when she refused to come home. How their faces had fallen when she told them she just couldn’t.  
As she turned off the water and reached for her towel, she thought about the job she had abandoned. About the years she had spent building that department and creating policies and procedures for the furthering of Magical Creatures rights.  
And as she stepped out of the steam filled shower stall the cold made her shiver as it chased away the effects of the sleeping pill that she took every night in order to quiet her brain long enough to fall asleep.  
As it did every morning, the thought crossed her mind to take another one. To just swallow that little blue tablet with a glass of tepid water from the sink and climb back into the warm welcoming comfort of her bed.  
It would be easier.  
It would be far simpler to let the power of the medication take her into comforting depths of slumber than to face the day.  
To face the constant spinning of her thoughts. To face the memories that have haunted her since childhood. To face the ever present and unpredictable torment of anxiety.  
But, she didn’t. Because if there was one thing that Hermione couldn’t do, it was to take the simple path.  
So, she dressed herself in simple, worn jeans that were soft and comfortable against her skin and a big comfy sweater the color of oatmeal.  
She ran a comb through her long hair, wincing as it caught on the tangles, then pulled her long tresses back into a loose braid secured at the end by a small elastic band.  
She took a deep breath and walked towards the far wall of her room and pulled the long chord that parted the heavy drapes and revealed the floor to ceiling glass doors.  
For a moment she took in the view, waiting for the beauty of the turbulent fall seas to inspire and uplift her.  
But it didn’t.  
She had lived alone in the small cottage along the Canadian coast on the very Northern edge of Nova Scotia for nearly half a year.  
The isolated location and incredibly small population were ideal. From her small rented cottage, she saw nothing but sand and sea on one side and thick trees on the other.  
The nearest town was an hour’s drive away, but Hermione relied on delivery services to provide her with what she needed.  
As she made her bed and began to tidy things up, she thought about what she would need for the coming week, mentally compiling her list of food and necessities.  
She tossed her pillows onto her bed and stood for a moment to stare at the blank white expanse of the thick down comforter.  
It occurred to her that it was somewhat ironic that people associated black with depression and sorrow. Black was the absence of color.  
It was void.  
Why not white? White was every color of the rainbow.  
For Hermione at least, depression and sorrow weren’t the absence of anything. It was the overwhelming weight of everything that made her feel numb, yet at the same time made her feel as if the entire weight of the world rested squarely on her shoulders.  
She looked back to the nightstand and slowly pulled open the drawer. Inside it was lined with silk that was embroidered with runes and sprinkled liberally throughout were various crystals.  
Lying in the center was her wand, nestled in the masking safety of the charmed drawer to hide her magical signature from anyone who might be looking for her.  
She felt the surge of longing deep inside her, the need to take it in hand and feel the magic course through her.  
But she didn’t.  
She closed the drawer gently and turned her back to it.  
For a moment she closed her eyes and breathed deeply to calm the storm inside. Once she felt in control she opened them and left the sanctuary of her room to begin her day.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Grapefruit Pink—

While her coffee brewed in her French press, Hermione moved about the main living space of her cottage tidying and opening up the blinds. It wasn’t a time-consuming process, given that she lived alone, but the routine was something that she needed in her life.   
It gave her a sense of purpose when she felt as if she had none.  
She returned to the small kitchen and began to prepare an omelet and a slice of toast for her breakfast. By the time she was finished and had made her plate her coffee was ready for her.   
She sat herself at the table and reached for the small plastic box with the labeled compartments for the days of the week. She flipped open the morning compartment and dumped the contents into her palm.   
A rainbow of shapes, sizes and colors filled her palm. Prescription medication and supplements, all intending to make her feel normal.   
If only.   
She sat them on the tablecloth next to her plate and began to swallow them between bites of her breakfast.   
By the time she finished her meal there was one pill left.   
Small, tear shaped, and the color reminded her of a pink grapefruit. Muggle doctors told her that it would replace the serotonin that her brain was lacking. She was still adjusting to the effects, the dose was raised and adjusted periodically as they searched for the right one.   
This little gem had the unfortunate side effect of making her queasy for about an hour after she took it. But so far it had worked better than the others she had tried so she tolerated the inconvenient tummy upset in favor of feeling somewhat normal.   
She swallowed back the pill with the last of her coffee and carried her dishes to the sink to do the washing up.   
As she went through the mindless ritual of washing and rinsing her dishes she stared out of the window.   
From her kitchen she could see for at least a mile along the beach. In the distance she could make out the house of her nearest neighbor. She had no idea who that was, it appeared to be a vacation home and vacant.   
It was different than the small cottages and bungalows that were more common in this part of the country. It will big and seemed to be mostly glass and concrete, very modern and imposing.   
Too big. Too open and too obvious.   
Hermione preferred things small.   
Cozy and safe.   
Predictable had become her mantra. No surprises. No sudden disruptions. Just the same routine, day in, day out.   
It was what worked best for her for now.  
She put the last of her dishes into the drying rack and reached for a towel to wipe down her worktop.   
With that done she moved to her desk where it faced the water and opened her computer.   
For a moment she considered sending an email to her parents. Reaching out to Harry just to let him know that she was okay.   
But she didn’t. She knew they didn’t understand what she was going through, they couldn’t. She didn’t understand, not really.   
They would try to get her to return to England, try to fix what was wrong with her.   
As if somehow, they knew the secret to restoring what was lost in her.   
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. If she understood how to fix it, she would have already! No one wants to feel as she did.   
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her thoughts as they began to race. Sometimes the simplest thoughts sent her to someplace else, an alternate universe where everything was catastrophic, and everything was somehow because of her.   
Once she was calm, she opened her browser and placed her weekly grocery order with a delivery agency in the nearby town.   
She did the same for the pharmacy, refilling her prescriptions where she was low.   
And just for fun she added some books to the list.   
With her morning routine complete, Hermione made her way to the sofa and curled up on her side. She tucked a plump pillow beneath her head and reached for the throw draped over the back.   
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the pain inside. She prayed that she would nap, but not too long and that if she dreamed that they would be kind to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Green-

Hermione put the last of her delivered items away and closed her pantry door. She had napped for over two hours; she should have far more energy than she did.   
But fatigue was just one more symptom of her condition. Maybe the worst. It would be great to feel excited again, motivated to do things.   
Hopeful.   
She tilted her head to one side, then the other, feeling the satisfying crack of her vertebrae adjusting. After her nap she had done thirty minutes of yoga on the deck, soaking in the sunshine for some much-needed vitamin D, while trying to meditate and ease her harried mind.   
Some days it helped more than others, but she did it anyhow because routine was important.  
Activity was important.   
Doing anything other than lying in her bed, not showering, eating, or moving was important.  
Today, the yoga didn’t help quite as much. She felt the anxiety crawling beneath her skin, that feeling that something was about to happen. It wasn’t specific. She wasn’t worried or afraid of anything specific, it was just a generic feeling that something was coming. Something unpleasant.   
She knew that it was unlikely, knew that it was just her body’s overactive “fight or flight” reflex, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with.  
Instead, it added another layer of fear onto the already overwhelmed system that was her mental health. The fear that one day she would mistake that feeling for anxiety and be unprepared for whatever it was that would come her way.   
“Viscous cycle of shit,” she muttered aloud as she opened a drawer and withdrew a small tin box and tucked it into her pocket.   
She filled a thermal mug with herbal tea and as she walked towards the French doors that led to her deck she grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair to carry with her.  
She walked along the worn, weathered planks, careful of her bare feet as she stepped down onto a narrow boardwalk.   
Tall, dry grass and rocky soil eventually gave way to dark sand as she made her way to the end where it widened to a platform that held two aged Adirondack chairs, a small table and a stone firepit.   
She loved to sit there and watch the moon come up. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, she would come and just sit beneath the moonlight, listen to the waves as the tide rolled in.   
The water soothed her.   
She could sit there, in her old wooden chair with the water just inches away and she could let her anxiety go. She could breathe out all of the turmoil inside her and watch the waves carry it away.   
It was the only place that she had any sort of peace. 

She placed her tea on the table and pulled a box of matches from her pocket to light the lantern bolted to the top of the table. She pulled a couple of logs from beneath the table and tossed them into the firepit along with some of the dried grass growing within reach.   
Once the fire took hold she grabbed her blanket and curled up into her chair and covered her lap with her blanket. She twisted her hair into a bun, tucking it under to secure it before she reached into her pocket for the small tin box.  
Inside were several marijuana cigarettes neatly rolled in brown papers. She removed one and sat the tin on the table before lighting it and inhaling.   
As she waited for the calm to settle over her, she stared out over the water. In the distance she could see the light of a cargo ship as it moved across the surface. She briefly wondered what it held in its cargo hold.   
Was it going towards home? Was it carrying treasures meant for England?   
“Granger?”   
Hermione jumped, startled at the sound of someone else’s voice disrupting her solitude. She looked around furtively, searching for the owner of the voice. Then she saw him, off to her right, slowly walking towards her from the coastline.   
Tall, and slender, dressed in dark jeans rolled up above his ankles and a thick, black, turtleneck sweater. He carried his shoes in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans.   
“Is that really you?” he asked as he got closer.  
“Draco?” she shook her head in disbelief as he stepped closer to the edge of her deck. “What are you doing here?” she asked nervously. Panic was beginning to settle in, already her mind was going over her escape plan.  
“I have a place here, up the beach,” he said, gesturing towards the big house in the distance. “This is the last place on earth I would expect to see you. Or anyone for that matter.”  
“Likewise,” she said nervously.   
“So, are you going to tell me what you are doing here…smoking the devil’s lettuce a world away from home?” he asked, a slight smirk lifting his lips. “I have to say, Granger, I’m shocked to see you indulging in such a deviant activity,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the deck.  
“It’s medicinal,” she said, her brow furrowed.  
“Sure it is,” he said as he reached up, silently asking for the joint. She hesitated a moment before passing it to him and watching as he took a drag. “So why are you here?” he asked again, his voice tight from holding his breath.   
“Did someone send you?” she asked. “Does anyone know I’m here?”   
“No, I came here on holiday. I didn’t even know you were here. Besides, if someone were looking for you do you really think they would send me?” he asked, taking another hit before passing the blunt back to her. “I don’t care where you are. I just didn’t expect to see you.”  
Hermione relaxed a bit and took another hit, closing her eyes as she fought the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.   
“Please don’t tell anyone that you saw me,” she said as she exhaled. She tamped out the burning end and put the remaining piece back into the tin. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but please, just don’t mention that you saw me.”  
“And who would I tell?” he asked, watching her curiously. “Are you alright?”  
“I don’t know, just please…”  
“Are you in danger?” he asked, concerned.  
“No, it’s not like that. I just…I just need to be alone for now. I just need to be away and I am begging you, please don’t let anyone know…”  
“Granger, calm down, I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re here,” he said, startled to see her so agitated. She had always been so calm and collected, the person you wanted with you in a crisis. He didn’t know what to make of her like this. “Your friends….?”  
“No, no one knows where I am,” she said.   
“I had heard that you went away, that you were on sabbatical.” Draco sat his shoes on the deck and climbed up to sit beside her in the other chair.   
“Technically, yes.” She said, trying to fight the urge to run back to her cottage. He knew she was here, she needed him to protect her secret and running away would only make him suspicious.  
“And truthfully?” he asked.   
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, debating on what she wanted to say, how much she wanted to reveal.   
“Truthfully, I am hiding, trying to find a way to cope with my life.”  
“Soooo…you sit on the beach getting stoned?” he asked, glancing towards the tin on the table.  
“No, I left the place where everything happened. I got away from the reminders to a place that I thought was safe, a place where I could sort it all out,” she said softly.   
“And how is that working for you?” he asked.  
“There are good days and there are bad days,” she said softly. “How did you happen to be here?”  
“Ah…I suppose similar reasons. I need to get away from time to time, away from work, away from my family…” he said, shrugging. “Something drew me here.”  
“This place seemed ideal…far from home, far from everyone yet close enough to get what I needed,” she said.  
“You have your wand for that,” he said.  
“No, when I said I needed to get away I meant that I needed to get away, from everything. Magic included.”  
“You’re not using magic? At all?” he asked, incredulously.  
“No. My wand is safely warded so that no one can trace me. I meant what I said, Draco. No one knows where I am and I don’t want them to, not until I am ready.”  
“Is it really that bad?” he asked softly. “So bad that you had to give up who you are?”


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Liquid Gold—

It was a long night for Hermione. She tossed and she turned, afraid to take her medication for sleep.  
She half expected Harry and Ron, and the entire Weasley clan to file out of her fireplace at any moment to demand answers.   
She didn’t trust that Draco wouldn’t report her whereabouts to them. He had promised that he wouldn’t, but what is a promise to a Malfoy? Did it mean anything? Did his word matter?   
She dragged herself from the warmth of her bed after snoozing her alarm clock several times. She went through her routine slowly, yawning every few minutes.   
When she opened her blinds she saw that storm clouds had moved in over-night and in the distance she could see lightening flash.   
The weather looked the way she felt inside. Charged, unstable, ominous.  
She made her way to the kitchen and began to prepare her breakfast. She wasn’t hungry, but her medication required food so she ate.   
A piece of toast with a fried egg on top and a big cup of coffee. She pushed her pills around on the placemat with her finger as she swallowed them one at a time.   
She picked the last one up between her thumb and forefinger and held it up so that the light could shine through it.   
It was oval shaped and semi-transparent, the color of liquid gold. Vitamin D, sunshine in a little capsule.   
Her medical doctor said she was deficient, recommended lots of sunshine and fresh fruits and vegetables. And a twice daily supplement.   
Supposedly it was tied to mood and depression, one of the many things.   
With a sigh she popped it into her mouth and took a long swig of her coffee to swallow it down with the rest of the pharmaceutical rainbow that churned in her stomach.   
She took care of the dishes and made her way to her desk. She took a few moments to check her accounts and pay a few things she needed to pay. It was always worrisome for her as she wondered if and when someone would trace her account activity.   
But so far, no one had found her. Except for Draco and he wasn’t looking. 

She checked the time on her watch and opened her video conferencing software. She input the required password and waited.   
Within a few moments her therapist appeared on the screen and they began their session. They discussed her medication. Was it working? How was it working? Side effects? Refills?   
They discussed her sleeping. Her dreams. Her eating. The number and severity of her anxiety attacks. What was she doing during the day? Was she in contact with anyone from home?   
That was when Hermione spoke about Draco. Her fears, how it made her feel to see someone from home. To see someone so connected with her past.   
Before she knew it, her time was up, and she felt a bit lighter. She knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but for now, she felt a bit lighter.   
Exhausted by her session, Hermione made her way to the sofa for her daily nap, settling into the comforting softness of the cushions she tucked a pillow beneath her head and pulled a blanket from the back. Grateful as sleep came quickly. 

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!  
Hermione struggled to pull her eyes open. It felt as if she were dragging her lids slowly over sandpaper as she forced herself from sleep.   
The house was dark, the storm outside blocking the moon completely. She checked her watch; it was well after seven.  
She had slept the entire day and she had slept deeply. Not something that she did often without the help of medication.   
Her body was stiff as she sat up and her muscles protested as she stretched.   
She looked around, a vague memory of hearing a loud banging sound stirred. Had she dreamed it?  
BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!  
She jumped, startled when she heard it again.   
She turned towards her kitchen, where the sound was coming from and saw a dark figure with an umbrella banging on her glass doors.   
Lightening flashed and she saw his blond hair, it was Draco.   
She slowly pushed off of her sofa and made her way through the house. She stared at him through the glass.  
“Can you open the door before I get toasted by the bloody lightening?” he asked, irritated. Hermione shook her head and reached for the lock, quickly stepping back as she opened the door so that he could come inside.   
“Shoes,” she said as she closed the door and turned the lock. Draco obligingly removed his shoes as he closed the umbrella, leaving both on the rag rug just inside the door.   
“Are you alright down here?” he asked.  
“Yeah…I’m fine,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“The power is out all along the coast,” he said. “Did you notice?”  
“Oh…I guess not, I fell asleep on the sofa,” she answered.   
“You slept all day?” he asked, concerned.  
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said as she turned away from him and made her way to the fireplace. As she became more aware she began to feel how cold it had gotten. She tossed some logs onto the metal rack.  
“Here, let me,” he said, reaching for his wand.  
“NO!” Hermione shouted, holding up her hands. “Please…no magic. Just…no magic.” She quickly grabbed a lighter from the mantle and shoved some kindling between the logs, lighting it quickly.   
“It’s my magical signature, Granger…no one would think to follow MY magical signature to get to you,” he said softly as he tucked his wand away.   
“None the less,” she said quietly, embarrassed and ashamed. “Thank you for understanding.”  
“Sure…I thought perhaps you might want to weather this storm at my place,” he said.   
“Oh…um, no. Thank you.” She said.   
“Any reason why not?” he asked.  
“You have staff…right?”  
“Yes…a couple of elves, but…”  
“Exactly!” she chuckled nervously as she reached for her discarded blanket and folded it back up to drape over the back of her sofa. “You may not realize it, but house-elves are the biggest gossips in the wizarding world! If you mention my name, mention that I am here then all of wizarding kind will know that I am here!”  
“Well, good for you that I didn’t then!” he said. “Do you want some company here then? It’s supposed to be a bad one.”   
“Then why are you out in it?” she asked as she made her way to the kitchen and clicked on the gas burner of her stove and put the kettle on.   
“To check on you,” he said.  
“Well, as you can see, I am fine,” she said with a tight smile. “I have a fire for warmth, gas stove for tea and food, and I am pretty sure that the garage has a generator of some sort if I really need to get power.”  
Draco watched as she nervously danced from foot to foot and fiddled with her teapot. He really had her rattled. He should go home, leave her in peace but something in him just wouldn’t let him leave. He felt strongly that he needed to be there.  
“Well then, maybe I am the one who needs the company then,” he said. “Can I share in your tea?” he asked. “It’s terrible weather out there for a man to be walking home.”  
She looked out the window just as the lightning flashed and the thunder boomed. Torrential rains and heavy winds battered at the window and she had no choice. She couldn’t send him out in this and he couldn’t apparate in such weather safely.   
“Fine, have a seat, I’ll bring it over,” she said gesturing towards the living area.   
Draco smiled, triumphant, as she turned back to the worktop. He glanced down at her kitchen table and his brow furrowed at the plastic medication container.   
Just what exactly was going on with her?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Off White-

Hermione took her time putting together a tray. She loaded the teapot and cups onto one side with a small sugar dish, milk and a plastic bear filled with honey. On the other side a plate loaded with various meats and cheeses and a sliced baguette with a small jar of mustard.  
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do since she had nothing else to offer him. She didn’t exactly socialize or entertain.   
She reached into a cabinet and withdrew a small prescription bottle. She opened the lid and gently shook one of the small rectangular shaped pills into her hand.   
They were fast acting anti-anxiety pills.   
She didn’t take them often, only when she was really struggling. Having Draco in her personal space was really messing with her. Her brain was racing, filled with fear and a million what if scenarios.   
She grabbed a bottle of water off the counter and quickly swallowed the pill before she turned to join Draco in the living area.  
He had taken a seat in the chair across from the sofa and was staring into the fire. He looked up when she came close and reached up to take the tray from her and set it on the coffee table between them.  
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” he said as she settled onto the floor between the sofa and the table.  
“It’s no trouble, I needed to eat something anyhow.” She poured the tea and handed Draco a small plate. She made herself a small sandwich and turned her gaze to the fire as she ate.  
Draco watched her, studying the familiarity of her face, taking note of the changes time had wrought. She looked much the same as she had when they were younger. Pretty, yet plain.   
Her smooth, freckled skin was paler than he recalled. Faint shadows curved beneath her eyes and he could see fine lines beginning to form at the corners.   
Her dark hair has a little bit of silver near the temples, but it didn’t age her. Somehow those little imperfections made her seem wiser, deeper.   
“So, you took off pretty quickly last night,” Draco said as he began to casually fill his plate.   
“It was getting late, I like routine,” she said simply.  
“Is it your routine to sleep all day?” he asked, settling back into the chair.   
“No, not that it is any of your business,” she responded with irritation. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I had a bit of a rough morning.”  
“I suppose I rocked your routine quite a bit,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. When I saw you, I thought it was just a trick of the brain, you know? I thought that when I got closer it would just be someone who sort of resembled you. I didn’t come here to mess up your…whatever you call this.”  
“Why did you come here?” she asked. “I thought that I made it pretty clear that I wanted to be left alone. Hell, I left the country to get alone!”  
He couldn’t explain what it was that drove him to her door. Ever since she had abruptly ended their conversation last night, he had been thinking of her. Wondering how she was, how she had come to be there.   
He was a moth to a flame where she was concerned. Always had been if he was honest. Something about her had always…excited…him when they were kids. Her intellect, her drive, that spunky attitude of hers. She challenged him.   
But this was different. This sad, apathetic, shadow of a girl drew him in a different way.   
“What happened?” he asked softly. “You can tell me; I promise you that it won’t go any further than this room.”  
Hermione leaned back against the front of the sofa and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. She stared at Draco for several moments. She met his gaze and looked deeply. He wanted to know, and something in her said he didn’t want to know so that he could hurt her.   
And she knew him. He was tenacious. He wouldn’t leave without answers.   
“It’s not an exciting story or anything,” she said with a shrug. “I have been struggling with my mental health for a bit. About a year ago it became…unbearable.”  
“Tell me.”  
Hermione took a deep breath, sighing as she exhaled.  
“It didn’t hit me right away when the war was over. I thought I was so strong, so smart…but in reality, I was just too busy to deal. For the first few months there were non-stop memorials to attend, charities to attend, fundraisers for rebuilding…it was a whirlwind,” she took a sip of her tea before continuing. “Then I had to make a decision about returning to school. Ron and Harry received special dispensations in order to join the academy, so I decided to go back and finish. Then I went to University and immediately upon graduating I went to work for the ministry where I was busy building a department from the ground up.”  
“You were quite the talk amongst the wealthy, some impressed, many irritated,” Draco smirked. “You should be proud.”  
“Oh, I am…very,” she said, smiling a little. “I bought a great little flat and lived alone, truly alone, not in a dorm, for the first time in my life. That was when it began.”  
She reached up for a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders as she journeyed back.   
“I enjoyed living alone, the quiet suited me. Ron didn’t approve, of course, he thought we should get married right away. But I wasn’t ready for that. I NEEDED to have that time before I made such a commitment. And besides, I was beginning to have doubts about the viability of my relationship with Ron. He changed…became demanding, possessive…sometimes he would say mean things…” She shook her head to clear those thoughts and got back on track with her story. “Well, at any rate, we ended up going our separate ways. I began to develop a fear, I guess, of the dark. As childish as that sounds.”  
“Not childish, I think we both know that there are a myriad of ugly things that hide in the dark.”  
“I guess that’s true,” she said softly. “I began leaving a lamp on in the corridor at all times. Which is not unusual, I told myself that it was safer if I didn’t come home to a dark flat after work. It was safer if I had some light in case I got up in the middle of the night for something. Then it was the door to my wardrobe. I couldn’t sleep if it was open even a crack. Then I couldn’t sleep if my bedroom door was closed or if the door to the en suite was open. Then I could only sleep on the sofa. And soon I couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two if at all. And when I did sleep, I had horrific nightmares.”  
She waited for Draco to comment, but he didn’t. He just waited for her to continue.  
“I began to obsessively check the locks on my doors and windows. I would ward my flat, then anxiously worry that I didn’t do it correctly so I would do it again, sometimes three and four times,” she took a deep breath, feeling the familiar rise of anxiety just speaking of it. “I became paranoid. I was lucky that I had already built my department and the staff was more than competent. My role was more managerial at that point. I was managing to function at work, but I didn’t have the energy or the passion for it as before. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be anywhere. I began to cancel plans, stopped responding to messages and invitations. I didn’t want to chat or visit with anyone, I just wanted to go home.”  
“When I was home, I didn’t want to do anything either. I didn’t want to read or watch the telly. I would just clean obsessively and constantly check my home for safety. And I would replay the war over and over in my head. Day and night. Every minute of every day was consumed with memories and fears. And thoughts of ending it all.”  
“Why didn’t you get help?” Draco asked. Hermione looked up at him and smiled sadly.  
“I did,” she said. “I saw a specialist at St. Mungo’s. I tried the potions, the meditations, the spells. It didn’t help.”  
“There are specialists who can selectively obliviate…”  
“Magic can’t fix everything, Draco,” she said firmly. “Sure, the memories can be obliviated but then you find yourself having a panic attack because of a child in a Halloween costume and you have no idea why. They can remove the memory, but not the response. That is the saddest part perhaps, knowing that I am a witch, that I have access to this amazing power, but it can’t fix everything. It doesn’t make things perfect.”  
“So how did you end up here?”   
“My mum, actually. She showed up at my flat, nearly got a concussion because of the wards. She forced me to go with her to see a muggle doctor who did multiple tests and assessments,” Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Funny how magical folk dis-regard muggle medicine. So certain that their way is best…but it was muggle medicine that saved me.”  
“I was diagnosed with High Functioning Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder and Complex Trauma Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I spent several months in therapy, trying a variety of drug cocktails and treatments. I’ve done hypnosis, EMDR, I have tried a variety of eccentric therapies like sitting in a salt cave, sensory deprivation therapy…some help, some are rubbish.”  
“And how did you end up HERE? How did you come to be living alone in this cottage?” he asked.   
“Ah, well, I believe that people shouldn’t be ashamed of mental illness. That it is important to be honest about what you are going through and that you should reach out to those you love for support and understanding, but doing it is another thing entirely.” she said. “I told them a little bit about what I was experienced, but what I didn’t expect was the reaction. They began to treat me as if I were broken, delicate. Instead of supporting me and understanding me they were trying to fix me. All of their advice…just choose to be happy! Just don’t worry…just forget it, it’s in the past…just let it go…It just made the difficult times worse. So, I decided to take a sabbatical. From everything and everyone. I had, of course, always maintained muggle accounts and a line of credit as I moved between both worlds. Being a single witch, I had saved quite a bit of money over the years, so I gathered together my funds and I packed up my things and…I left.”  
“You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving?” he asked incredulously.  
“I left a note that I was going away for a bit and needed to be alone. But other than that, no.”  
“Why Canada?” he asked.  
“Oh, I went to America first. Smack in the middle of the country where there is practically nothing but fields of grain and more cows than you could imagine! But I longed for the water.” She looked towards the window and the sea outside. “So, I began looking for something on the coast, but the coasts in the US are very populated, more than I can handle at the moment. So, I found this place. The lovely lady who owns it wanted to be closer to her grandchildren and was happy to take a full year’s rent in advance.”  
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said quietly. “I mean that.”  
“We all have our demons, I suppose,” she said uncomfortably. She had just revealed her deepest truth to someone that she had never been able to trust.   
And he didn’t try to help.   
He didn’t offer her advice and he didn’t judge or…he just gave her what she needed.   
He simply acknowledged her pain and offered his condolences.  
“Thank you, Draco,” she said.   
Thunder clapped hard, shaking the walls, startling her.  
“Wow, it doesn’t seem to be letting up, does it?” Draco said, watching the lightening flash outside.  
“You can stay here,” she said before she actually thought about what she was saying. “I don’t have a guest room and I’m not connected to the floo network…but the sofa is comfortable. If you want.”   
She felt strange inviting someone into her space. Why did she do it? She was good at being stand-offish, good at keeping people at a distance.   
“That sounds great,” he said, smiling. He knew how much it cost her to ask him to stay. He knew that he should leave but he really didn’t wan to.   
“I’ll get some extra blankets and pillows for you, then.” She pushed herself from the floor and headed into the hall, returning a few moments later with some pillows and a blanket. “There is a small powder room there near the door, I grabbed an extra toothbrush for you,” she said as she set the stack of supplies on the sofa. “I’ll just tidy up and then leave you to get some rest.”  
“You don’t like to talk much, do you?” he asked. He watched her pause for a moment as she grabbed the tray from the table.  
“On the contrary,” she said. “I love to talk. Or at least I used to. I suppose I just don’t really know what to say to people anymore. What is it that people want to hear? What do they want to know? Because it seems that the truth isn’t it. When you share your truth with them...they get weird. No one really cares when they ask how you are, they just want to hear that you are fine. Whether you are or you’re not.”  
“You’re right. Personally, I prefer the truth. I like this Hermione Granger. I mean I don’t like that you are in so much pain, regardless of what you may think, but I do like that you shared your pain with me. I like that you were honest and open with me. We will talk more tomorrow,” he said smiling at her. “There is plenty of time to get back in the swing of conversation.”   
She couldn’t help but smile at him. A genuine smile, for a change.   
For the first time in a long time, Hermione went to bed and slept, her bedroom door open just enough to see him lying on her sofa.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

A rainbow—

It was the scent of fresh bacon that pulled Draco from his sleep. He didn’t open his eyes right away, instead he laid there in the warmth and just enjoyed the rich scent of cooking food.   
He could hear the sounds of dishes rattling, the opening and closing of the ice box, running water in the sink. They were ‘homey’ sounds, something he wasn’t too familiar with.   
He opened his eyes and found himself staring out the window at the water. The angry storms from the night before had given way to bright sunny skies in the morning.   
He felt rested and surprisingly relaxed given he had slept the entire night on a sofa.   
Hermione had been right, it was very comfortable.   
Slowly he sat up and stretched, feeling the pleasurable warmth slide through his body before reached for his jeans crumpled on the floor. He slid into them and tucked his t-shirt into the waist.  
He was still buckling the belt when he made his way to the kitchen to find Hermione putting food onto the table.  
“Hungry?” she asked, biting her lip nervously.  
“Famished,” he answered as he slid into the chair. Hermione sat a plate in front of him loaded with bacon and eggs. Fresh scones sat on dish in the center of the table along with coffee, cream sugar and a couple of small jars of jam and honey.  
“I usually have coffee in the morning, but if you prefer tea…”  
“I prefer company,” he said softly. “Thank you, for breakfast. Please sit down and eat with me, this looks amazing.”  
He could see her cheeks flush as she settled into the chair opposite him with her own plate. He didn’t say anything as he ate, just watched her from the corner of his eye.   
She emptied medication into her hand and then laid it on the placemat beside her coffee. A small scattering of varying shapes and sizes in a rainbow of colors.  
“What is all that?” he asked, trying hard to keep judgment out of his voice.  
“That is my daily medication,” she said.  
“You are awfully young to have so many, aren’t you?” he asked.  
“I am awfully young for the experiences that I have had also,” she said in response. “Some of these are supplements…vitamins. I take a multi-vitamin, Vitamin D, Vitamin B, Calcium, Vitamin C, Magnesium…I appear to have a vitamin deficiency according to the doctors.”  
“And the rest?” he asked.  
“Ah…the rest. Well, I take an anti-depressant, a mood elevator, an anti-anxiety medication, a blood pressure medication, and at night before I go to bed I take a medication to help me sleep. I also have a couple of as needed medications for severe anxiety, along with medical marijuana,” she answered.  
“Is this a forever kind of thing?” he asked, continuing to work on his breakfast.  
“I hope not, but it could be…if I don’t get better.”  
“What does ‘better’ mean?”  
“Maybe that’s the wrong choice of words…if I don’t learn to cope better. I suppose mental illness isn’t something that can be healed, it’s a constant in your life. Kind of like a roller coaster, you have ups and downs,” she said. “I hope that I don’t have to rely on medication for the rest of my life, but I could. And that’s okay.”  
“Absolutely, no judgment. I was just curious,” he said. “How about we go for a walk? It’s beautiful out this morning.”  
“Oh…I need to clean the kitchen and someone might see…”  
“I can help with the kitchen and we can walk the opposite direction from my house, no one will see,” he said. “Besides, my staff only comes when called. I don’t like having them there all the time.”  
“You’re going to help me clean the kitchen?” she asked, her voice laced with humor.   
“There is a lot about me that may surprise you,” he said as he poured another cup of coffee. “Just wait, you’ll see.”  
They finished their breakfast slowly, genuinely enjoying one another’s company. They talked about this and that as they stood at the sink and shared the washing up duties.   
In short order the house was set to rights and the two of them set off on a walk along the beach, in the opposite direction of Draco’s house, just to be safe.  
“So, what have you been up to these past years?” Hermione asked. “I didn’t hear a whole lot from the Malfoy end of things.”  
“Well, let’s just say you aren’t the only one with demons to fight,” he said softly. “I just chose a slightly more destructive way to do it.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. She didn’t want to say outright that she wanted to know in fear that he might balk. Loathe as she was to admit it, she was enjoying his company. She took it as a positive sign.   
“I don’t have anything to hide,” he said. “After the war I worked with a tutor at home to complete my schooling and to take my exams. Given my family’s role in the war I was given a dispensation for my own safety and well-being.”  
“I didn’t go to Uni right away, however. See, you and your friends, you fought Voldemort…he lived in my house. When I was home, I saw him EVERY day. Not just him, but his people…crawling all over my ancestral home. Tainting my family’s sanctuary, our legacy,” he shivered visibly as if something invisible were crawling under his skin. “He had infested every part of my life, of my family. His threats, his vulgarity, his…depravity. It was everywhere. I saw people murdered, tortured, raped…I watched him fornicate publicly with my aunt, make lewd comments to my mother, emasculate my father…you fought him, I was consumed by him.”  
“I never thought of it like that…I hadn’t….I am so sorry,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.   
“It isn’t easy to really understand what I lived through, it’s difficult to imagine such horror,” he said. “I don’t blame anyone; it was part of my journey—horrific as it was.”   
Draco stopped and picked up a flat stone and tossed it into the waves, watching it skip a time or two along the top before being swallowed up.   
“When I was done with my exams, I took off,” he said with a shrug. “I just started traveling around. I went rock climbing, hand gliding, bungee jumping, zip lining, any sort of thrill-seeking activity I could find I was all in.”  
“But it wasn’t quite doing it for me. I would go to the pubs and get pissed, wake up next to someone I couldn’t remember and feel ashamed. I would pick fights, wake up battered and bruised and not remember what in the hell had happened or why I had gotten angry enough to throw a punch,” he said, shaking his head.   
“Then one night about three years ago I was in a bar out in the California desert in the US. I had just spent a weekend in Las Vegas, won a bit of money, lost a lot. Got a howler from my dad that literally had hotel security knocking on my door!” He smiled at the memory and shook his head. “Anyhow, I was in this run-down place out in the desert. The lot was filled with mean looking bikes and even meaner looking bikers.”  
“I didn’t belong there. I knew it. They definitely knew it,” he said. “Funny thing about bikers…everyone is afraid of them. They’re big and bad and mean and violent…or at least that’s what people assume. And yeah, they can be. They aren’t to be trifled with. But I tell you, when things go down those men are going to be the first ones to protect women and children nearby. I got pissed, started mouthing off to the lady behind the bar. I was a prick. Two guys at the end of the bar called me out and I immediately started in.”  
He stopped and looked out over the water, lost in the memory.   
“The older one was named Jack but he went by “Moose”. He was as big as his namesake,” Draco chuckled. “He was real quiet when he came and stood beside me. He never raised his voice at all, just put his hand on my shoulder. He said Son, I can see the hurt in you. If you are looking for a fight you can find that here, we can give you a good fight until you get all that rage inside you out. You can also find salvation here. So, what’s it gonna be?”  
Draco smiled and sat down on the sand. He reached up and took Hermione’s hand and pulled her down to sit beside him.  
“So, what did you do?” she asked, enthralled by his story.  
“I mouthed off, his son, Decker, nearly broke my jaw for it,” he said, rubbing the side of his face at the memory. “He was right. I was looking for a fight and I found it. I landed a few punches but mostly I just swung and spat and kicked blindly while they knocked me back and forth until I was too tired to do anything other than fall to my knees,” he said quietly. “I had never been more exhausted or ashamed or humiliated in my entire life. I was empty. Just a shell of a man.”  
“Oh, Draco,” she whispered as she touched his shoulder.  
“That was when Moose came back. He pulled up a chair and straddled it, rested his arms on the back of it and stared down at me. Now that you’ve got all that piss and vinegar out of ya, you’re where you need to be. Everyone comes to their knees at some point in their life, it’s up to you what to do when you get there. You can stay there, wallow in your past and let it kill you, or, you can start building a foundation to rise up. What’s it gonna be, son?”  
“Such wisdom,” she said softly.  
“As I said, Bikers aren’t what they seem,” Draco said. “Moose, Decker and their group…they took me in. They let me ride with them, helped me get my first bike and taught me to ride. They took me to church with them on Sundays, I ate dinner with their families and played with their kids. They didn’t know I was rich, or that I was a wizard…all they knew was that I was lost. They restored my faith in life. In love. In humanity.”  
“I assume they changed your opinion on muggles?” she asked.  
“Absolutely, though I didn’t exactly hate muggles. But I couldn’t really be open about that back then,” he said. “They are my friends. I care about them. I stay in touch with them, much to my father’s chagrin, on a regular basis. They brought me back to life.”  
“I don’t know that I expected to hear you say that a muggle biker gang saved you,” Hermione said. “But I am glad that you had someone.”  
“As I said, people make a lot of assumptions and more often than not, they are wrong,” he said. “Moose and his family, they are good people. He took me to get my first tattoo.”   
“Your first?” she asked, brows arched.  
“The dark mark was a brand. When he died, it left a distorted scar on my arm,” Draco pulled up the sleeve on his jumper to reveal the inside of his left forearm. Where the dark mark had once marred his pale skin there was now a winged Dragon that looked as if it were about to take flight. Below it was the words, Draco Ortu.  
“Dragon Rising,” she said quietly as she ran her fingers over it.  
“Exactly,” he said. “I have a few others now, a celestial design on my lower abdomen, the Constellation Draco on the back of my shoulder, I want to get a complete sleeve on this arm, but it takes time to figure out just what you want it to mean,” he said as he pulled his sleeve back down.   
“So, you did it without medication?” she asked. “You’re all better?”  
Draco looked over at her and smiled. He reached out and touched her cheek softly.  
“No, I’m not all better,” he said. “I will never be all better. I’ve seen too much, done too much to ever be all better. But I’m okay right now. Today I am okay, and I am grateful for that. I didn’t take medication, no. But my journey was mine, yours is yours. Don’t compare the two. Don’t be ashamed or feel as if you failed because you rely on medicine to cope. You do what YOU need to do.”  
Hermione stared at him for several minutes. She was amazed at this man sitting beside her. Amazed at how someone that she assumed was her opposite was very much the same. He was right, she shouldn’t assume anything about anyone’s journey.   
She had felt so alone for so long, as if she were the only one who struggled and suffered as a result of the war; but perhaps she just didn’t see the battles others were waging inside?  
“Did I grow another head or something?” he asked after she stared at him for too long without speaking.   
“No,” she laughed. “Thank you, Draco, for talking to me. For telling me your story. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”  
“I’m glad, but don’t run off,” he said. “I was thinking I might go home, shower and change, then come back with my bike and take you for a ride into town.”  
“Oh, I don’t know…”  
“No one will know you; I promise. This town has less than five hundred people in it, none of them are magical,” he said. “We can have dinner, walk around, it will be fun!”  
“I don’t really have anything to wear for dinner,” she said.  
“You don’t need anything…well, I mean, you need to wear something—not that I mind a naked dinner,” he said with a wink. “The fanciest restaurant in town is Clyde’s Crab Shack and its on the pier. Jeans are fine.”  
“I don’t suppose you are going to take no for an answer?” she queried.  
“I mean no means no, if I have to I will…but I’d really like to take you to out for a bit. No pressure,” he said.   
“No pressure?”


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mustard Yellow—

Hermione changed her clothes and braided her hair. She brushed her teeth and even rifled through the cabinet beneath the sink for an old makeup bag that hadn’t been touched since she left England.   
Most of what was in it was expired, but it was the best she could do.   
She wasn’t sure why she was bothering; it wasn’t as if it were a date or anything. But it would be the first time she had been out in public in ages and she felt like she needed to fix herself up a bit.  
And maybe, just maybe, there was a part of her that wanted him to see her as more than just a head case from his past.   
When she was finished getting ready, she took a moment and stared into the mirror for a few minutes. Something she hadn’t done in ages.   
She looked pale, and a little too thin. She clearly didn’t get enough sun and her eating habits were more out of necessity for her than a real desire for food. She required medication and her medication required her eat or be ill.   
When had she last taken any joy in cooking or eating?  
With her brow furrowed she leaned forward and examined her eyes. They appeared dull and lifeless to her. One she had felt they were her best feature.  
Bright and happy, filled with life and a zest for knowledge; the color of warm whiskey.   
Now they looked to her to be more the color of…Dijon mustard.   
“You’ve changed, old girl,” she said softly to her reflection. This was why she had stopped looking in mirrors. 

She thought about cancelling. Suddenly she didn’t feel like being seen or seeing anyone. She wanted to hide.   
But from the sound of the rumbling engine drawing closer to her cottage, it was too late.   
She quickly slapped the light switch and headed to the front door. She stopped at the coatrack and grabbed a light denim jacket from the hook. She stepped outside just as Draco pulled up.  
And every ounce of breath left her body when she saw him.   
His lean, athletic body was sat atop a low-slung Harley Davidson. His long legs encased in worn, dark denim with black biker boots hit the ground, bracing the bike as he waited for her.   
A black leather jacket hung loosely on his torso, a black waffle-knit shirt beneath it tucked into the waist of his jeans. A black and white print bandana covered his hair and expensive aviator sunglasses hid his eyes from her. But not his smile.  
“Like what you see?” he asked, chuckling. Her face heated quickly and she struggled for something to say. “I know, not what you expected to see on a Malfoy, right?”  
“Something like that,” she managed, fighting to keep her tongue from sticking to the roof of her mouth.  
“You should have seen my father the first time he saw me when I finally returned home. You would have thought I was wearing a house-elf’s rags by the way he carried on,” he laughed as he reached for the leather saddlebags strapped to the bike. “You can put your bag in here,” he said, reaching inside and withdrawing a helmet. “and put this on.”  
“You don’t wear one?” she asked as she pulled the shiny helmet on and strapped it beneath her chin.  
“Depends on where I am riding,” he said. “Laws and environment play a big part.”  
“So, I just…climb on?” she asked, staring at the bike.  
He held out his hand and she took it without thought.  
“Be careful and throw your leg over, then put your arms around me,” he said softly, pulling her closer. She braced her other hand on his shoulder and carefully climbed onto the bike behind him.   
She jumped when she felt his hand on her knee.  
“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you…just put your feet on these pegs here,” he said, guiding her into position. “Now, just put your arms around my waist and hold on. If you get scared or anything just tap me. I know what I’m doing and I’m safe, I promise.”   
When he felt her arms lock around him and her cheek press into his back, Draco slowly pulled out of the drive and onto the long stretch of road that headed into town.   
At first, Hermione was having a difficult time breathing. Not just from anxiety about the ride, but also because she didn’t quite know what to make of Draco.   
But then, she decided to close her eyes for a moment, to breathe in the scent of sea air and leather. The scent of him, just beneath it.  
And she relaxed.   
She felt her body loosen, felt the vibration of the bike beneath her, and mostly, she felt Draco against her.   
She felt safe.  
She felt…joy. 

She found herself somewhat disappointed when they passed the sign welcoming them to the small town. People waved and smiled as they drove by, children excitedly pointed at the shiny motorcycle. It made her feel a little bit guilty.   
The people of this town were super friendly, very welcoming, yet she rarely visited, electing instead to have everything she needed delivered. 

It didn’t take long before they turned into a crowded parking lot in front of the pier.   
It was hard to miss the seafood restaurant. It was heavily decorated with colorful crabs and palm trees, tropical flowers and other various oceanic images.  
Loud music blared from the interior along with the boisterous sounds of people enjoying themselves. Hermione could see crowds of people on the pier, sitting at tables, leaning against the banisters and staring out at the sunset.   
She felt a little pull of envy in her gut, remembering faintly when she would enjoy similar small pleasures.   
“I know it looks insane, but the food is really good,” Draco said, interrupting her thoughts. He parked the bike and took her helmet, tucking it into the saddlebags and retrieving her things.   
“I mean it lacks the dark, soot covered ambiance of the Leaky but I suppose its fine,” she said, nearly smiling.   
Draco smiled, his silver blue eyes twinkling.  
“A joke?” he said softly. “Ms. Granger, you may well be on the way to recovery.”  
She couldn’t begin to describe the hopeful feeling that his words inspired in her. It was just a small sarcastic comment, but it was something she had lost…her sense of humor. She laughed so rarely, and she wasn’t laughing now but she felt that feeling. It was slight, but that feeling of mirth that warms your cheeks and your soul.   
Nothing more was said as Draco offered Hermione his arm. It was an old world gesture that she found charming. It reminded her of home. So much of what went on in wizarding society was archaic, but much of the old world practices such as chivalry, she secretly enjoyed.   
Once they stepped through the front doors Hermione felt overwhelmed by the people, the music and the ambiance.   
“I’ve got you,” Draco said softly, laying his free hand over the one now gripping his forearm tightly. “Trust me.”  
“Draco! Welcome back!” Hermione was distracted by the large, red-faced man rushing towards them from behind a check in desk. He was wearing khaki trousers, belted below his prominent belly, a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt tucked neatly into the waistband. And brown leather flip flops on his feet.   
His blonde hair was dull, mostly gray, and it stood up off of his head in sweaty spikes. His face was red and blotchy, his forehead dotted with sweat. But for all his disheveled appearance his face was happiness personified. His smile wasn’t a “customer service” smile.   
His smile reached his eyes, it beamed from him as if he were lit from within. This was a man who loved his life, who loved what he was doing and he was genuinely happy to see them.   
“Hey, Clyde! How’ve you been?” Draco asked, smiling as he offered his hand to the jolly man.  
“Can’t complain, can’t complain!” Clyde said. Hermione noticed that he didn’t have the accent she had become accustomed to in the area. “I’ve got your table all ready for you, just like you asked.” He said, as he gestured towards the interior of the restaurant.  
“Thank you,” Draco said as he followed, “I appreciate the accommodation.”  
“Not to worry! Southern hospitality says you do what you need so your guests leave happy!” Clyde said, snatching a couple of menus as they passed the check in desk.  
“Where are you from?” Hermione asked, curious about the man.  
“Oh, well I was born and raised just outside of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I moved up this way about thirty years ago,” he said. He directed them to a private table on the edge of the dining room. It was quiet and situated near a window where they could hear and see the waves. Above them was a small heater that kept the area warm and comfortable.   
“How did you end up in Canada?” Hermione asked, thanking him as he pulled her chair out of her.   
“Oh, well, the greatest reason of all, love. One summer the most beautiful creature that ever walked this earth came to Myrtle Beach for summer vacation with her friends. One look at her and I knew that I would follow her to the ends of the earth. And I did, I followed her here,” he smiled softly and pointed to a photograph on a nearby wall. A plump woman with blonde hair and green eyes smiled back at them over a pot of boiling crabs. “That’s Emma, and she was worth every mile.”  
“She’s lovely,” Hermione said, entranced by the way the man stared at her photograph. He obviously loved her very much.   
“Oh, she was. I married her six months after I met her. We built this restaurant together, inspired by the shacks along the beach in South Carolina. We raised four children together. Spent twenty-five years together before the good lord called her home.” It was amazing to Hermione to see the sadness flash in his eyes, yet he smiled.   
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.  
“Thank you for the kindness, Miss, but I haven’t lost anything,” he said. He tilted his head to the side and really looked hard at Hermione. “My Emma gave me a quarter of a century. She loved me and she let me love her. I got to watch her work by my side every day. I watched her make our home, make our children and I got to watch her make that journey on. I lost nothing, but gained everything and one day I will join her. She’s not gone, she’s just waiting for me to finish up.” 

Hermione had no words for such a pure statement of love and faith. She smiled and nodded her head, because she was afraid that if she tried to speak she may choke on the tears she struggled to hold back.   
“I’ll send my daughter Jean over to get your order, you two enjoy your dinner!” he said jovially with a pat to Hermione’s shoulder.   
“You okay?” Draco asked quietly when Clyde walked away.  
“Yes, I’m fine. His story was beautiful, to see joy mixed with sadness is an interesting thing,” she said.  
“I guess its where the term “bittersweet” stems from,” Draco said. “Clyde is a good man, I met him last year when I bought the house. He can be a chatty one though, he likes people, he loves his work.”  
“Draco!” Both of them turned towards the exuberant voice. A heavily pregnant young woman was coming their way with two tropical drinks in her hands.   
“Hello, Jen,” Draco said as he got to his feet and took the drinks from her hands. “Goodness, you’ve grown,” he said, eyeing her bulging belly.  
“I know, right? This little one snuck up on us,” she said smiling as she rubbed her belly.   
“Congratulations,” Hermione said.   
“Thank you!” Jen smiled. “So, are you two going to join the shag contest?”   
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione asked, eyes wide.   
“The shag contest, are you two going to sign up? We have the best shagging in Canada! Winner gets a free dinner!”  
“Um…again, pardon?” Hermione’s face was bright red and she was beginning to wonder what kind of place Draco had brought her to.  
“Every Friday night we have our weekly shag contest,” Jen said as she gestured towards the dancefloor where people were dancing to the oldies tunes played by the band. “Don’t you shag?” she asked, confused.  
“We’re British,” Draco said softly, his voice laced with laughter. “Shagging means something a little more…intimate…than dancing where we come from.”  
It took a moment for Jen to put two and two together, but when she did she immediately apologized waddled away quickly in embarrassment.  
“Well that was interesting,” Hermione chuckled as she slid the cocktail to the center of the table.  
“She didn’t realize,” Draco said with a smile. “You don’t want a drink?”  
“I think it has rum in it,” she said. “Aside from an occasional glass of wine I don’t really drink. It doesn’t mix well with some of the medications.”  
“Got it, I’ll order you a soda,” he said. “Now, I don’t recommend ordering the fish and chips, it isn’t quite what we get back home and I am afraid you will be disappointed. If you trust me, I am happy to order for the both of us…”  
“Yes, I do trust you, Draco,” she said softly, closing her menu.   
She really did.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Faded Ivory--

“It’s staring at me,” Hermione said as she stared at the dish in the center of the table.   
“What?” Draco asked, looking up with confusion. “Who is looking at you?”  
“The prawn…it’s looking at me,” she said, continuing to stare at the prawns lying across a bed of half eaten rice.  
“It’s dead…” Draco said, double checking because when you are a wizard you never quite know.   
“Still,” she said as she tossed her napkin over top of it. “I have never eaten so much food in one sitting.”  
“I wish I could say the same…I usually order this just for me,” Draco said, eyeing the stack of empty dishes in the center of the table. “I like it all so much I just don’t know how to choose.”  
“I have to agree, the food was delicious, thank you for dinner,” she said, smiling.   
“So, should we shag?” he asked.  
“Pardon?”  
“Dance, should we join the other people shagging on the dance floor?” he asked, a mischievous grin on his face.  
“You are incorrigible,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know how to shag.”  
“Well, you were with a Weasley, I’m not surprised,” he said winking at her. “It doesn’t look too difficult. Come on, Granger, lets burn off some of this food.”  
Draco stood and held out his hand to her. She stared at it for several moments before sighing and accepting his invitation.   
Neither of them had any idea what they were doing as they joined the crowded dance floor, but it didn’t matter. As they watched the others and attempted to imitate the movements, Hermione felt laughter build inside her. And the more they tried and failed to get the movements down, the more that laughter bubbled out of her.  
She was having fun. A lot of fun.   
And when she thought she couldn’t take another breath from the laughter and the dancing, the music slowed, and Draco pulled her closer. Her stomach dropped a little, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Her cheeks were aching in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time.   
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, smiling down at her as he clasped her hand in his and rested his other hand along her back.  
“No, it was fun,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder as the band sang an old ballad. “I can’t remember when I last had this much fun.”  
“Maybe it’s time to re-join the world?” he asked gently. “I get why you took the time away. You needed the time to focus on yourself and getting the treatment you really needed without the distraction of others…”  
“Draco…” she tensed in his arms, but he held her tighter.  
“Just hear me out, and then I won’t say anything more about it,” he interrupted. She took a deep breath and relaxed, giving him unspoken permission to continue. “Maybe now that you are leveled out, you have your meds, you have your routines, you are finding the things that work for you…maybe it’s time to ease back into life. Ease back into your friends. They do love you; you know. They mean well.”  
“How badly did it hurt you to say something nice about them?” she asked.   
“You can’t imagine the pain burning in my gut right now,” he chuckled. “Seriously, think about it.”  
“I will,” she said, knowing deep inside that he made a valid point. It was time for her to start testing the waters. She couldn’t hide forever.  
“Time to twirl,” Draco said just before he sent her out on an awkward turn and pulled her back in. As he pulled her close once more, he caught sight of a mark on the inside of her left forearm that was peeking from beneath her pushed up sleeve. He paused and pushed up her sleeve completely, revealing the slightly raised mark, faded white with time.   
Mudblood  
Suddenly he was overcome by the memory of Hermione lying on his parlor floor. Blood running down her arm and tears streaming down her face. He could hear the echoes of her cries, her screams of pain as his aunt carved the vulgarity into her young flesh.   
He felt once more the rage, the fear, the disgust that had raced through him as he stood on the edge of the room, trembling as he watched the atrocity that was taking place. Watching as Hermione, a girl he had already tormented enough with his words, bravely endured the torture inflicted upon her. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing him, a reminder to stay still, stay quiet, to stay safe.   
One more sin that would forever mar his soul. His silence. His inaction. One more thing he would bear the scars for.   
He swallowed hard, ran his thumb over the mark as if he could heal it with his touch alone. Slowly he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the mark.   
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin. “I hope that you can forgive me.”  
“Draco, you didn’t do this,” she said quietly, nudging his chin up with her fingers.   
“I should have stopped it. But I was scared. I stood in the corner like a coward, I put myself first while you were hurt. My inaction was action and I am sorry,” he said.   
“If my forgiveness is what you need then you have it,” she said. “Don’t let the past ruin the most fun I have had in years.”  
“No, we shouldn’t let that happen!” he said, shaking off the melancholy. “Wanna go for a night ride?” he asked. “There are some beautiful moonlight views along the coastal road.”  
“That sounds amazing!” she said, excited at the thought of riding on the back of his bike again.  
They left the dancefloor and paid the bill, Draco dropped a hefty tip for the pregnant Jen and said goodbye to Clyde on the way out.   
Once on the bike he headed through town to where the road opened up and it was nothing but shoreline on one side and tree line on the other.   
Hermione held on tight, her cheek resting against the center of his back as they sped through the darkness. She should be terrified, she hated anything that moved too fast. She had never been an adrenaline junky, preferring more “cerebral” excitement to adrenaline. But this…this was freeing.   
But was it Draco or the bike?   
She tried not to think too hard about it, but she felt the stirring in her belly. Those faint fluttering sensations that she thought were long gone, and never thought she would feel for Malfoy were making their presence known.   
Draco took a sharp right that led them to a small gravel lot that gradually merged into a small beach. It was a cove really; tall boulders sheltered the tiny beach between them. Once upon a time the now separate behemoths were probably one, but the power of the waves had come between them, creating the picturesque spot.

Draco parked the bike, shutting off the engine before he toed the kickstand down and let the bike rock back to a stable position. He waited for Hermione to slide safely from behind him before he himself stepped off, shaking his legs and tugging his jeans down as he did.   
“This is beautiful,” she said as she walked towards the beach. She stopped on the edge of the sand and knelt down, removing her boots and socks then rolling up the hem of her jeans. Barefoot she dug her toes into the sand, feeling the cool granules against the warmth of her skin.   
She sighed softly, breathing deeply of the sea air as she closed her eyes and just listened.   
She loved the beach. Loved the water and the waves.   
“What do you miss about home?” he asked, watching her as she took it all in. She smiled, a soft but genuine smile of someone lost in her memories.   
“mmm…chocolate digestives,” she said softly. “The curry place near my flat. I miss the smell of Diagon Alley. The sounds of the joke shop…I miss my friends and my family.”  
“I miss school,” he said as he passed her and headed to the water’s edge. He stopped just short of the waves and stared out at the moon reflected on the surface. “I miss the early years, when things were simpler.”   
“Were they ever simple?” she asked honestly. Her recollection of school had been that from day one things had been anything but simple.  
“Maybe I should rephrase that, I miss school before Hogwarts. I attended a small private school with other pureblood children. That is where I met Crabb and Goyle, Zabini, Parkinson…my father wanted me to attend Durmstrang, but all my friends were going to Hogwarts. I begged my mother not to let him send me there, to let me go to school with my friends.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders as if to ease tension that had settled there. “Maybe I would have been better off?”  
“Your father’s involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters insured that you would be affected. A different school wasn’t going to protect you,” Hermione offered. “You just wouldn’t have had a support system like you did at Hogwarts.”  
“Perhaps,” he said, looking down at where she sat in the sand. He folded his legs beneath him and settled onto the ground beside her. “Don’t you get lonely?”  
“Sometimes,” she said softly. “But I kind of like it, you know? Being alone…I never felt like I had any true alone time before. Not at school, not after. It was like there was this constant buzzing of people and activity and even at the end of the day I just couldn’t shut it down. I just couldn’t make my brain turn off.”  
“Replaying history?” he asked, and from his tone she could tell that he must have experience.   
“For a while, yes,” she said. “It was, is difficult to forget the things we saw, the things we lived through. But then those memories faded, and the racing thoughts became about nonsense really.”  
“Such as?”  
“Such as…how will we process grain in an apocalypse, why isn’t there a spell that keeps me from ruining every white top I put on my body, did I lock the door?” she shook her head and wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top. “It went from reliving my trauma to creating chaotic thoughts out of nothing. Eventually I stopped sleeping because I just couldn’t stop them.”  
“I get that, I didn’t have obsessive thoughts so much as obsessive behaviors. I would build things, obsess over every detail until it was perfect.”  
“You’re an artist?” she asked, surprised. She hadn’t considered Draco to be the creative sort.   
“I mean I’m no Da Vinci or anything, but yeah…I like to make things, draw things,” he said, his cheeks flushing a bit.   
“Interesting,” she smiled. “Are you lonely, Draco?”  
“All my life,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “My parents and I, we just aren’t close. Too much is left unsaid, left locked away. I have Jack and the boys.”  
“No lady friend?” she asked, surprised that her stomach knotted as she waited for the answer.  
“I’ve had a few, but none that have stuck with me,” he said rubbing his hand over his chest. “Do you miss having Weasley about?”  
“Sometimes,” she said softly. “I think I will always love, Ronald. He was my first…everything. I believe that people are in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. They all serve their purpose. Sometimes relationships just run their course. People change, feelings change.”  
“So, no one else then?” he asked.  
“Nope, I’m just not that exciting.”  
“I can’t imagine that to be true,” he said. “I’m sure the fault was mostly with him.” She laughed softly; it was almost comforting that some things never changed. “But physical affection, love, sex…those things are important to a person’s overall wellbeing.”  
Hermione thought about chastising him for being too personal, but then she answered him anyhow. Oddly enough, Draco was turning out to be the only person in the world who seemed to understand her and how she felt.  
“Yes, they are. But the medication has…side effects,” she said, searching for a delicate way to explain it to him. “Sometimes they make it difficult to…respond. It can take a lot longer to reach climax, on some medications it is near impossible.”  
“And?”  
“And that can be difficult for a man, when his partner isn’t responding or is taking too long. It hurts his ego. And you end up feeling like you are failing in yet another area of your life, hurting them, wasting time…it just compounds that feeling of being broken.”  
Draco reached for her hand and lightly stroked her fingertips with his.  
“A real man does whatever it takes, for as long as it takes…and if it’s not working he holds you close and loves you through it.” He met and held her gaze for what must have been mere seconds but seemed like an eternity. “I am sorry that you have felt all alone in this, Hermione. That you felt like you couldn’t lean on your friends.”  
“I didn’t want to be a burden, and I didn’t want to be anyone’s obligation to fix,” she said quietly.   
“Broken isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “Whole is subjective, I think. Maybe being whole is overrated. Perhaps we should focus more on just being enough.”  
“Enough for whom?” she queried. “I think enough is just as subjective as broken.”   
Hermione shivered as the wind began to pick up. Draco realized that the conversation had gotten a little too deep, and besides that, it was late.   
“It’s getting cold,” he said, looking out over the water. In the distance they could see the faint flicker of lightening. “Another storm is moving in; we should go back.”  
“Probably a good idea,” she said as she got to her feet. They walked slowly back to the bike and Draco held her steady while she put her boots and socks back on. Within moments she was once more on the back of the bike, her arms wound tightly around him as they raced along the coast. 

Too soon her little beach cottage was in front of them and Draco was walking her to the door. She stood there awkwardly, not sure how to end the night. It wasn’t a date, but she felt her stomach clench tightly at the thought of kissing him.   
Did he want to kiss her?  
Did she remember what it was like to be kissed?  
Did he even feel that way about her or was it one-sided?  
Anxiety began to burn inside her, causing her skin to feel tight and somewhat itchy.   
“Thank you, Draco. I had a wonderful day,” she said as she smiled up at him.   
“Me too.” He reached out and touched her cheek softly with his fingertips, then he surprised her when he pulled her close and hugged her to him. “You’re not broken, Hermione, just a little dented.”   
With that he kissed her forehead and before she could respond he was swinging his leg over the bike and riding off into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Dusty Rose—

Hermione sat at a small wicker bistro table on the back patio and sipped at her tea. It had been a couple of days since she had gone into town with Draco. Her mind had gone over their conversations again and again, anxiously going over every word that they spoke and picking apart every emotion that she had felt. 

That night she had not needed the medication to sleep. After a shower and a cup of hot chocolate she had drifted off on the sofa. Her dreams were not plagued by nightmares, but instead she dreamed of romantic walks on the beach and soft kisses beneath the lacy fronds of a willow tree. 

The sun was high when she awoke, warming her face as it shone through the windows. Energy pulsed through her veins rather than anxiety. For the first time in a very, very long time Hermione felt almost normal.  
Of course, she wasn’t a fool, she knew that she was not miraculously cured of her mental illness. But as she logged in her journal that day, she counted it as a win.  
Every positive move forward was still moving forward, even if it were only an inch.

She found herself smiling, surrounded by the sounds of the waves, the wind and the seagulls that circled overhead. It felt good to smile, felt good to close her eyes and breathe in the air and not feel the anxiety buzzing beneath her skin.   
Her thoughts were still, not spinning or catastrophizing the situation. She was just…still. 

“What are you smiling at?” Hermione jumped at the sound of another voice intruding. Her moment of peace was disrupted as she opened her eyes to see Draco climbing up onto her patio.   
“You startled me!” she snapped, admiring his athleticism.  
“You just looked so happy,” he said, laughing as he settled into the chair across the table from her. “Were you thinking about me? Did you miss me?” he teased, waggling his brows.   
“No,” she said, shaking her head. But she smiled despite her words as he snatched a scone off the plate between them. “Where have you been?” she asked.  
“I got caught up in something,” he said between bites. “Are you busy today? I wanted to take you someplace.”  
“Not really, I just finished up for the day when I came out here,” she said. “Why do you seem afraid to ask me to go with you?”  
“We need to use magic to travel,” he said. “Don’t worry, it’s a portkey, my magic. But I would really like to take you someplace.”

Hermione stared at him for several long moments. She felt the heat in her face as anxiety and fear washed over her.   
But then he reached out to where her hand rested on the side of her mug and he laid his hand over hers.   
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said softly. “Trust me.”  
“I….I don’t know…” she furrowed her brow as her thoughts began to spiral. What if someone saw them? What if something went wrong? What if she didn’t like it? What if he took her home? What if…..   
What if she just pushed through it? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another and another until she quieted her mind. She would never be able to regain normalcy in her life if she didn’t at least try to venture outside of her comfort zone.   
“What should I wear?” she asked, finally opening her eyes. The smile that lit up his face made her feel warm inside, and somehow, she felt as if she had accomplished something by agreeing to go with him.  
“Keep it simple,” he said. “We will be riding when we get there, so something comfortable.”  
“Give me a few minutes,” she said as she slid from her chair.  
“I’ll tidy up,” he said.   
“Really?” she arched her brow and gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him.  
“Hey, just because I grew up in a stately manor surrounded by servants doesn’t mean I don’t know how to put a dish in a sink,” he said. “Besides, your house is so small I can see where your kitchen is, it’s easy.”  
“Prat,” she muttered as she disappeared into the house and her bedroom.

She returned shortly after and saw that Draco had very neatly placed the cup and plate into the sink and was locking her sliding door.   
“All ready?” he asked.   
“No, but let’s do it anyway,” she said softly as she draped her small bag across her body.   
“That’s my girl,” he said as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew a shiny gold coin and began rolling it between his fingers.  
“Is that…is that a gold doubloon?” she asked, stunned to see the highly valued coin being so casually manipulated.   
“This? Yeah, apparently there were a few pirates in the Malfoy lineage. We have an entire chest of them in the vaults. I’ve had this one since I was a kid,” he said, looking at the coin. “It’s my good luck charm.”  
“Figures, I was playing with plastic coins as a child, you were playing with actual pirate treasure,” she said as he came closer.   
“Don’t hate me because I’m rich….and beautiful,” he smiled wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.   
“I don’t think I hate you at all, Draco,” she said quietly as she felt his warmth against her.   
“Glad to hear it, now hold on,” he said as the coin began to pulse as if it had a heartbeat.   
Hermione closed her eyes and let her forehead rest against the center of his chest. It had been a long time since she had felt the surge of magic go through her body. She felt the vibration, the warmth as the spell began to swirl around them. It was as if electricity were dancing along her skin as they were transported from the center of her living room into a vortex of power. 

Then suddenly there was silence, and she felt the magic fade away. And she mourned the loss, for she had missed feeling the magic inside her.   
“Here we are,” he said, “safe and sound.” He ran his hand over her hair but did not move away from her. He stayed close, as if he knew that she needed a moment to settle herself. 

Hermione didn’t open her eyes right away, instead she focused on her other senses. It was silent, and very warm. The air was slightly dusty as she breathed in and she quickly turned her head to sneeze.  
“Bless you,” Draco said, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief and pressing it into her hand.   
“Thank you,” she replied, gently wiping her nose as she opened her eyes and looked around. She found herself standing in the center of a dimly lit garage. “Um…you wanted to bring me to a garage?”  
“No, but we need transportation,” he said as he reached for the edge of a white cover and pulled it off, revealing another motorcycle. This one a deep green and chrome.   
“Another bike?”   
“I have a few,” he said. “There is a couple of traditional automobiles here too if you prefer,” he gestured for her to turn around and see the line of vehicles in the garage.  
“Where are we?” she asked.  
“Nevada, just outside of Las Vegas. My father likes to play Keno, so he has a house here.”  
“Lucius in Las Vegas?” she couldn’t quite imagine it.  
“You would be surprised how well my father fits in here…no one even notices him. Which both bothers and thrills him.” Draco chuckled.   
“Are we going to gamble?” she asked.  
“If you like, but I had something else in mind,” he said. “Trust me.”  
“I do. I don’t know if I should, but I do.”   
“That means…that means a lot to me, Granger,” he said quietly. They stood for a moment, silent, staring at each other. “Ok, its hot in here…we should go.”   
With a flick of his wrist the door began to wind open and let the warm desert wind inside. Draco climbed onto the bike and with a kick it roared to life, the sound almost deafening. He reached into the saddlebag and withdrew a helmet for her and another for himself.   
He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to support her as she swung her leg over and settled onto the back of the bike. Once her arms were secured around him he pulled out into the warmth of the sun and they were off.

Hermione got a brief look at the large Spanish style home behind them and wondered why anyone needed such a large vacation home just to gamble on occasion, but the Malfoy’s were not a typical family, so she let it go.   
Once they passed through the property gates they rode through miles of open desert. The sun was hot, but the air was dry and comfortable as they sped along the road. The scenery was breathtaking, and Hermione was moved by the isolation. It was easy to forget that there were places in the world where you could be totally alone without another soul for miles around. They rode for miles before they came into a small town. Draco stopped at a fuel station and filled the tank and Hermione was taken in by the quaint little desert town where you could literally see from one end to the other. 

While he fueled the tank Hermione walked over to a small booth where a Native American woman was selling jewelry. Two bracelets and some earrings later they were back on the bike and off once more through barren desert, and then, rising out of the distance she could see the iconic buildings of Las Vegas.  
“Is that the strip?” she asked, leaning in so that her lips were against his ear.   
“Yeah,” he responded.   
“Is that where we are going?” she asked.  
“Nervous? Afraid I brought you here to wife you?” he laughed.  
“Hardly,” she responded.  
“We are just passing through,” he said. “If I decide to wife you it won’t be in a Vegas Casino.”

Hermione said nothing. Had he thought about it? She knew he was joking, but his words pulled some invisible chord on her heart. What was wrong with her?  
She brushed the train of thought aside as they entered the city. She was mesmerized by the sights around her. It was early afternoon, but the strip was alive with activity and she knew that it would be truly spectacular at night.   
They passed through the cityscape and into a small area outside of Vegas proper. Draco turned the bike down a small street that was lined with businesses and turned off in front of a building that looked like an old west Saloon.   
He pulled the bike into a row of other motorcycles that were parked out front and parked.   
“Here we are,” he said as he slid off the bike and extended his hand to help her to her feet.   
“This is a tattoo parlor,” she said, confused.   
“Yeah…so….” Draco reached into his back pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He looked nervous as he handed it to her. “I mean…you don’t have to do anything…I just, I…this is for you.”  
Hermione took the piece of paper and gently unfolded it. In the center was a delicate vine of twisted rosewood, ivy, and beautiful white and dusty pink roses.   
“You drew this?” she ran her fingers lightly over the drawing.   
Draco sheepishly tucked his hands into his pockets and shifted from foot to foot.  
“Do you like it?” he asked.  
“I love it, it’s beautiful…I just don’t understand?” she looked up at him, her heart fluttering in her chest almost as fast as the butterflies dancing in her stomach.   
“The rosewood vine…like your wand,” he said. “The English Ivy is strong and persistent, grows in the harshest conditions. The white roses are pure and good.”  
“And the pink ones?” she asked as tears began to burn at the corners of her eyes.   
“When I think of you…when I have thought of you over the years, I always remember the dress you were wearing at the Yule Ball, when we were in school. I saw you and I thought you were beautiful, I wished, even if it was just momentary, that I could ask you to dance and that you might have said yes…so the pink, it’s how I see you.”  
“Draco…it’s so beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”   
He reached for her hand and he pushed up her sleeve to reveal the scar on her arm.   
“This thing…it was an evil thing that was done to you. Something that I could have prevented but I didn’t. So, I want to replace it, to cover it with something beautiful. Something that truly defines how I see you. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just…I don’t know…” he suddenly seemed so unsure of himself, as if he had done something wrong.   
“Will it hurt?” she asked.  
“Not nearly as much as what was already done,” he said.  
“Is it safe?” she asked, looking at the building.   
“Don’t worry, Decker is a tattoo artist. He’s done all my ink and owns this establishment. The façade looks old and run down but I assure you that inside is a modern and sterile environment. Its clean and staffed only with the most professional and talented people,” he said. “And I’ll be with you. It isn’t magical, so if you don’t like it we can have it removed with a spell.”   
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked back down at the beautiful drawing in her hand. Something that he had created especially for her to cover a scar that represented a moment so painful, horrific, and ugly in her life.   
“Ok,” she said, smiling as she looked up at him. “Let’s do it!”


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Dandelion Yellow—

Draco hadn’t lied when he said that the façade of the parlor was deceiving. The inside was surgically pristine, with gleaming tile floors, stainless steel tables and counters with medical grade disinfecting equipment for their tools. She could see that there were inspection stickers and permits hanging on the wall along with a large framed poster outlining their sterilization and cleaning routines.   
Clearly, this was an establishment that took great pride in their work and providing a safe and healthy environment for clients. But she wouldn’t expect anything but the best from Draco. There is no way he would have allowed anyone but the best to work on him. She was immediately more comfortable with moving forward than when she was standing outside. It was a big deal, allowing someone to mark your body that way. But if she hated it, and she didn’t think that would be the case, a visit to a magical healer could erase it. As he said, it wasn’t a magical tattoo.   
“Dragon!” a large man with a long black ponytail and an equally long beard stepped from an office in the back. His hair and his beard were held neatly by several evenly spaced rubber bands. Every inch of him that she could see was covered in tattoos, including his knuckles. He even had a tattoo that said “Faith” beautifully scrawled above his left eyebrow. He was dressed in jeans and heavy boots with a black leather vest that had his name, Decker, stitched above his heart.   
If it weren’t for his bright blue eyes and wide, open smile she might have found him frightening. But pure joy and excitement radiated off of him as he approached them and pulled Draco into a tight hug.  
“Hey, Decker!” Draco managed to grunt out as he accepted the big man’s affection. “This is my friend, Hermione,” he said. Decker set him down and looked at Hermione, carefully assessing her.  
“Hello, Miss,” he said softly. “Pleasure to meet you.”  
“Hermione, this is Decker,” Draco said, resting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “My brother if you will.”  
“Pleasure to meet you, Decker,” she said softly and extended her hand. He took it, his big inked up hand engulfing hers as if he were holding the most delicate of flowers.   
“Another Brit, eh?” he said, smiling. “You don’t seem like the type to be in a place like this.”  
“She’s actually here to get some work done, if you can fit her in,” Draco said as he handed Decker the drawing.   
Decker looked it over and Hermione could see that he was planning out what needed to be done. He turned it here and there, laid it on a nearby counter and took a pencil to add shading and some detail to make the image more vibrant and complete. When he was satisfied, he looked up and smiled.   
“You came on a slow day,” he said. “Let me go make up the outline and we can knock this out in a few hours.” Decker vanished back into the office and Draco smiled at Hermione.  
“He really is harmless. I know he doesn’t look it, but he’s a gentle guy and a true artist,” he said.   
“I believe you,” she replied. “I am capable of looking beneath the surface, Draco. Of seeing what’s deeper.”  
“I just…people judge him and his family by their appearance and its usually wrong…” he shook his head and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small pot. “Give me your arm,” he said softly. “This will keep it from hurting too much,” he said as he rubbed the yellow salve into her skin.  
It wasn’t long before Decker reappeared and directed Hermione to his chair. He chattered cheerfully as he set up, pulling colors from a drawer unwrapping the sanitized equipment, putting a new needle onto the gun and testing it to make sure it moved smoothly. It was interesting to watch his gloved hands moving so carefully, so precisely as he prepared his equipment like a doctor preparing for surgery.   
“Alright, where are we going to do this?” he asked, holding up a neatly trimmed blue outline of the drawing. Hermione rolled up her sleeve and showed him her forearm.   
Decker gently ran his finger over the faded word that marred her skin. Her recognized it for what it was, abuse.   
“Darlin’, who did such a thing to you?” he asked softly.   
“It was a long time ago, they don’t matter,” she said, touched by the gentle way the man looked at her.   
“What is this word, Mudblood?” he asked.   
“It’s a horrible insult where we are from,” Draco said quickly, intervening so that Hermione wouldn’t have to explain. “A gang was terrorizing people; Hermione was one of them.”  
“The same gang you were running with?” Decker asked, his voice tight as he turned his head towards Draco but didn’t look at him. “The same gang who marked your arm?”  
“Yes.” Draco said.   
“Did you do this to her?” Decker asked, his voice firm.  
“No, but I didn’t stop the one who did. I am making amends,” he said. Hermione watched the exchange in fascination. She could see that Draco had tremendous respect for the man.   
“Has he?” Decker asked her.  
“He has, I have forgiven him. He was just a child himself at the time.”  
“Child or not, we do not harm women and children and we do not let others harm them either,” Decker said firmly. “You may not be patched, and you may not be a prospect, but we consider you family, Dragon.”  
“Understood,” Draco said softly. “It will never, ever happen again. I swear it.”   
Decker nodded firmly, took a deep breath and wiped Hermione’s arm down with alcohol multiple times before he applied the outline to her skin. Once it was transferred to his liking, he grabbed his needle, warning her that it might sting a little and to let him know if it was too much. Then, with gentle precision he began to work.

It wasn’t particularly painful, but the salve Draco had spread on her skin was probably the reason for that. It was mesmerizing watching him go over the rendering, watching as it came to life. She felt the vibration of the needle as it moved over her skin, saw the color begin to fill. Decker was so focused, so careful, so very precise that she found herself almost hypnotized by watching him work.   
Before she knew it, he was sitting back and admiring his work.   
“I think we have a masterpiece here,” he said as he gently cleaned the site and explained to her how to care for her new ink. He took a photograph with his phone after getting her permission, promising he would not reveal her face or her name. He covered the tattoo with a clear film to protect her from infection and handed her a tube of ointment to use while it healed.   
“Thank you, so much, Decker,” Hermione said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching for her purse.  
“Nope, sorry…family doesn’t pay,” he said. “Dragon is family.”  
“Oh, I don’t feel right…” Hermione protested, but Decker held up his hand, ending the conversation.   
“You aren’t exactly getting off scot free,” he said looking at Draco. “You’re expected at the ranch for dinner.”  
“I wasn’t planning…” Draco stopped when Decker gave him a look. “We’d love to. Let Moose know we will be there soon.”  
“He’s expecting you,” Decker said. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll ride out with you.”  
Draco held the door open for Hermione and followed her out onto the walk.   
“Sorry, I should have known that I’d be summoned,” he said. “You okay with joining them? It will be crowded and loud, but no one is magical. No one will know who you are.”  
“Can we leave if it’s too much?” she asked. She didn’t want to be rude and after meeting Decker she had to admit that she was curious about the people that Draco called friends. Family.   
“Absolutely, just let me know and we can make a graceful exit,” he said, pleased that she was willing to meet his friends.   
“Then yes, I would love to meet your friends,” she said.   
Before she knew it, they were back on the bike and once more trekking through the desert. This time with Decker on a bike beside them. It didn’t take long before they turned down a long dirt road towards a property set back in the desert.  
They rode through a wrought iron arch that read “The Iron B” in block letters. The road was lined with rough hewn wood fencing and Hermione was surprised to see animals moving around on the other side despite the lack of any edible looking plants.   
“Grain fed, in case you were wondering,” Draco said through the speaker inside her helmet. “They are more pets than livestock.”   
As the road curved a set of houses and barns came into view. They were simple buildings, but well kept. A smattering of tall trees kept the area shaded from the harsh sun and allowed for a thin patch of grass to grow in the center, serving as a courtyard of sorts.   
Handmade wooden picnic tables and a large grill that looked as if someone had made it out of old metal barrels was smoking nearby and the air was filled with the delicious aroma of whatever was being prepared. As Draco pulled the bike to a halt and pulled off his helmet, excited screams rent the air. A small gaggle of children were running towards him, screaming “Dragon!” excitedly. 

She watched in amazement as he climbed off the bike and happily accepted the hugs and sloppy kisses from the little ones.   
“Oh, boy! Did you guys miss me?” he asked, laughing as he stooped down to their level. “Did you get the package I sent this morning?”  
“Yes, they did and if you don’t stop spoiling them…” A beautiful Native American woman with a baby on her hip and one on the way was walking towards them, smiling indulgently as the kids climbed all over Draco. “It’s good to see you, Dragon.”  
“Good to see you too, Maria,” he said smiling. He stood and held out his hands towards the baby who happily leaned forward to be taken into Draco’s arms. “And you, my little princess!” he kissed the baby’s chubby cheek and turned towards Hermione.   
She nervously stepped off the bike and removed her helmet.   
“This is my friend, Hermione,” he said smiling. “Hermione, this is Decker’s wife, Maria. And this is my goddaughter, Clarissa.”  
“Nice to meet you,” Hermione said softly to Maria. She reached up and smiled when the baby took hold of her finger and smiled. “And you.”  
“This motley crew here belongs to Decker, some are Jack’s and a few other of the guys who live here,” he said gesturing at the children. “Look in the saddlebags, you’ll find some treats for them if you don’t mind.”  
“You need to stop!” Maria said indulgently as Hermione reached into the leather bags and withdrew several bags of candy from none other than Honeyduke’s. The children were apparently familiar with Draco’s candy treats as they suddenly converged on Hermione like a pack of wolves. Somehow, he knew exactly how many kids there would be there as he had a bag for each of them. 

With their prizes in hand they ran off into the shade to enjoy, their squeals of excitement echoing through the air.   
“The next set of dental bills are going to be your responsibility,” Maria said. “Jack and the boys are over by the barn.” She took the baby from him and gestured towards the group of burly men hovering around the grill. “Hermione, you can join me and the others in the summer kitchen.”  
Hermione looked at Draco nervously. She didn’t know these people, wasn’t sure what to expect.  
“It’s okay, Ill be right over there,” he said, touching her shoulder gently. “They are good people, Hermione. Some of the best I have ever met. Trust me.”   
With a smile and a nod Hermione turned to Maria, “Lead the way.” 

As the evening moved on Hermione was fascinated by watching this ‘family’ that Draco had found for himself. There were about four families that lived on the property. Jack, whom everyone called Moose, and his second wife and their children. His two grown sons, Decker and Dennis, and his daughter Claire and her family.   
Several other families showed up in trucks and on bikes. Draco was right, it was crowded, and it was loud, but there was so much joy that radiated from the group. She could feel it as it charged the air. Children ran wild on the property, dogs and chickens occasionally darted through the crowd. It was a farm for misfit animals it appeared. A blind horse, a three-legged goat and at one-point Hermione saw a peacock walking between the houses.   
The roles were very traditional, the men gathered near the barns grilling the meat and working on bikes, talking shop and drinking. The women tended the children and served the food. But there was respect between them. The houses were simple, but well cared for. The families weren’t rich, but they were happy.   
There was never a moment of silence, but Hermione didn’t feel overwhelmed by it. She watched them, she absorbed their joy and as night fell and families began to leave, she envied them.  
There was so much love there. And as everyone said goodbye, she could see that they loved Draco, and that he loved them in return. He was at home here in a way that she had never seen him. 

“He’s a good soul.”  
Hermione jolted at the deep, rough sound of a man’s voice.   
“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Jack smiled down at her. He was a big man, with a big beard that reminded her of Hagrid, only his beard was bound together by several rubber bands—one of which sported Hello Kitty—and made her smile.   
“It’s okay,” she said. “Thank you for having me, your family is…”  
“Large? Loud?”  
“Lovely,” she said. “Your family is lovely.”  
“You sound very British,” he said chuckling.   
“I am,” she said. “Draco is truly happy here,” she added.  
“When he found us, he was anything but,” Jack said. “A lot of anger and darkness inside that boy once upon a time.”  
“Yes, well, his life wasn’t easy,” she said quietly.   
“I’ve met his father,” Jack said.  
“I’m so sorry,” Hermione answered, immediately embarrassed by the catty remark. But Jack just barked out a belly laugh and took a drink of his beer.   
“Luc is a bit of disaster, but he loves Draco, best he knows how I guess.”  
“Luc?” Hermione looked at Jack as if he had sprouted another head.   
“He hates it, we do it on purpose. He doesn’t much care for us, I’ve never seen a man wash his hands so many times as he did when he came here with Draco,” Jack laughed again. “But I think he saw what we were able to give to Dragon. And in his own way, he was appreciative.”  
“Draco is different, no doubt about that,” she said, watching as Draco sat surrounded by kids telling them a story about Hippogriffs and Thestrals. “He has peace.”  
“It didn’t come easy for him,” Jack said. “When he came to us there was a near impenetrable wall of anger and self-loathing in him. He was itching for a fight; he craved the punishment. He was trying so hard to atone and thought that getting his ass kicked on the regular was the way.”  
“He said you gave him a fight,” she replied.  
“Not really. We just let him swing it out until he was exhausted, and when he had purged all that was inside him, we just tried to fill it with something more.”  
“How? What if the hole inside him was unfillable?” she asked, unaware of the sorrow and fear that shook her voice.   
“We just loved him through it,” Jack said gently as he laid his hand on her shoulder. “There is no hole that is unfillable. You just must understand that you don’t have to fill it completely. It’s okay to have cracks and crevices in us, canyons even. That’s human. We aren’t meant to always be happy and to never feel pain or sadness. What is not okay is to let ourselves become so empty that we lose hope.”  
“And if we can’t control it?” she asked. “What if you try and try to fill the hole but the darkness still takes over?”  
“Then you keep trying. If you keep trying, the darkness can never win. It’s when you give up…that’s when you are defeated,” Jack said. “We believe that every man, every woman, comes to their knees at some point. What makes or breaks you is what you do when you get there. Do you get back on your feet, despite the pain, despite the challenge? Or, do you lay down and let the ground consume you?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re not alone. I can see you are dealing with your own demons, and no one can slay them but you. But we all have our personal enemies to battle, Hermione. You may feel alone, as if no one understands, but we are all in this together. Remember that.” 

His words washed through her as he turned and walked away.   
Such wisdom and gentleness from a man who looked as if he could tear you apart with his bare hands.   
Stereotypes were so misleading.   
“You okay?” she heard Draco ask from beside her. She turned to him, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and she smiled softly.   
“I am,” she said with a nod. “You’ve got good people here, Draco.”  
He looked around him at the group of people and he smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets as if he were trying to contain the emotion inside of him. He watched as the parents wrangled up the children and began herding them into the houses for bed. He watched how the men kissed and hugged the little ones lovingly and wished them sweet dreams before gathering around the fire to drink and chatter into the night.   
“Yes, I do,” he said smiling at her. “Thank you for coming to meet them. I imagine they are a rowdy bunch compared to what you are used to.”   
“It was a lesson for me, one that I needed. I like to think that I am above stereotyping, more openminded than that…but I am just as guilty of judging a book by its cover as anyone else,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me here, Draco, I had a really good time.”  
“If you aren’t too tired, I have one more thing to show you,” he said hopefully.   
“I’m not tired at all,” she said. Draco slipped his hand from his pocket and reached for hers. It felt so natural to lay her hand in his and follow him as he led her to the group to say their goodbyes.   
And when she climbed onto the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, she felt peace, and she couldn’t help but lay her check against his back and squeeze him gently as they headed off into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The desert night had turned cool by the time Draco pulled the bike back into the garage of his family’s home. The dim lights inside lit up automatically as they entered, and the door closed behind them. Draco parked and reached for her hand, holding her steady as she climbed off of the bike and got her “sea legs” back.  
“What do you want to show me?” she asked as she dusted off her jeans and smoothed back her hair.  
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her behind him as he moved towards a door with a window at the corner of the garage. “Stay close, its dark out here,” he said as he opened the door and pulled her with him into the night.   
In the dark she could see the soft glow of a pool set in a multilevel patio. There were no lights illuminating the windows of the house and she prayed that meant no one was inside. She allowed him to lead her down a sloping bath that wound through large cacti and other desert plants. As they rounded the foliage she stopped, and Draco turned to smile at her.  
“What is that?” she asked.  
“There is a meteor shower tonight, so I had some of the staff put together a place where we can watch it,” he said. “It has every comfort and an open roof. And its charmed to block the light pollution.”  
“That’s a pink and white yurt,” Hermione said, slowly moving towards it.   
“Well, I wanted some comfort…there is a hot spring inside, fire, food….” He pulled her up the slight incline and Hermione felt the magic tickle as she crossed the wards. She was careful as she peeked inside, she wanted to make sure no one was waiting for them. “Don’t worry, I made sure they knew to leave so that we could be alone.”  
“Alone?” she said softly as she stepped inside. In the center was a spacious hot spring with what looked to be benches carved into the side of the rock. A fire near by warmed the interior and white fur rugs covered the floor. “Are those real?” she asked.  
“Faux,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of lining the floors with real fur and then invite you to visit.” She smiled as she continued her observations. A mound of pillows was piled high upon what appeared to be a round mattress covered in fluffy blankets. Next to it was a low table laden with food and drinks.   
“Through that small screen door there is a water-closet. Inside you will find some bathing costumes of various sizes and styles,” he said. He seemed nervous as Hermione continued to look around her. “We don’t have to stay…I mean if you want to go home…”  
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “You thought of everything.”   
He visibly relaxed and took a deep breath.   
“I’m glad you like it. I was nervous, I thought it might be too much and today was already a lot for you…”  
“Today has been really nice, Draco,” she said. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”  
Draco blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a cute, sheepish gesture that left a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched him. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rolled his shoulders forward slightly before he looked up.  
“Maybe you want to change? I’m sure there is something in there that will work, we can relax and have some wine…nonalcoholic of course,” he said.   
Hermione nodded and made her way through the Japanese style paper sliding screen that marked the water closet. She was surprised to find a full-size bathing chamber inside with a shower, sink and commode. A standing mirror was situated beside a clothing rack filled with various bathing suits, dressing gowns and cover ups.

She selected a one pieced maillot in a deep navy color and a white cotton robe. She glanced in the mirror and winced slightly at her windblown curls, but then found herself kind of mesmerized by the sun-pinkened glow of her cheeks. She leaned closer, brushing a stray curl off of her brow, and took note of her face.   
The dark circles under her eyes had lightened, she looked awake and less sullen. Maybe she didn’t look like her former self, but she looked healthy and dare she say, happy?  
She smiled and ran her fingers over her lips as if she were trying to memorize the feel of an emotion that had become nearly extinct.   
Until recently.   
Until he had stumbled upon her on the beach.   
“You alright in there?”   
Hermione turned towards the sliding screen and the sound of Draco calling for her. How odd to end up in this place, with him.   
How odd that the one place she found understanding and comfort was with a man who had participated in the destruction of her psyche. 

She slowly slid the screen aside and stepped out into the yurt. She saw Draco, now clad in a pair of snug black bathers, sitting on the side of the hot spring, his feet tucked below the surface of the water.   
“I was afraid you had decided to disapparate,” he said softly. Hermione moved towards the spring, her hands slowly untying the belt of the dressing gown.   
“You know I am not using magic right now,” she said softly. “Hot springs were thought to be magic by the native people of this country. Most countries where they occur actually,” she reached the edge of the spring and took a deep breath before she shrugged out of the robe and stepped into the water. The hot water sent a surprising chill through her body as her feet made contact with the smooth stone of the bench. “Many believe that they offer healing to the body and the mind. Many sanitariums and hospitals were built on the sites, the waters bottled and sold as medicine,” she said, stepping further down until the water lapped at her waist before she settled onto the bench and took a deep breath. She looked up and saw Draco smiling at her from the edge.  
“Do you believe in the healing properties of the hot springs?” he asked as he slid into the water beside her.   
“I believe that the medicinal effect that some felt could have merely been from a replacement of minerals that were lacking in their diets,” she said, nervously biting her lip. “Are you laughing at me?”  
“Not even a little bit,” he said. “It just occurs to me that you often lecture when you are nervous. Why do I make you nervous?”  
“Because I don’t understand you,” she said honestly. “Your kindness, your openness…it makes little sense to me.”  
“I figured that it was obvious,” he said. “Forgiveness is something one earns, redemption comes when one truly has seen the error of their ways. I want your forgiveness.”  
“Forgiveness is something freely given, Draco,” she said. “Forgiveness isn’t bought by money or deed. I forgive you, but I will never forget.”  
“No, I don’t want you to forget. What I want is to build better memories, ones that outweigh the old.”   
Draco reached behind him for a small pot of ointment and turned back to her.   
“Let me see your arm,” he said. Hermione lifted her arm from the water and held it out to him. With gentle fingers Draco ran his fingers over the cloudy film that Decker had placed over her new tattoo earlier in the day. Carefully, he peeled it back from her pinkened and sensitive skin. “Does it hurt terribly?” he asked.   
“Not really, stings a bit,” she said.   
“Decker does amazing work, he’s clean and he’s thorough,” Draco said. “But he is bound by muggle medicine. This is a simple healing salve; I couldn’t give it to you earlier…” he said as he dipped his fingers into the pot and smeared the cooling cream over her arm. Instantly she felt it penetrate and heal the irritated skin, she watched as the pink faded and the color of the ink became more vibrant.   
“I still can’t believe you designed this…and I still can’t believe I have a tattoo!” She closed her eyes tightly and gave an excited squeal that startled Draco but then he laughed. “Apologies!” she said, slightly embarrassed. She just couldn’t contain the excitement that welled within her.   
“Don’t apologize, does it feel good?” he asked.   
“What? Screaming?” she asked.   
“Yes, did it feel good?” he asked again.   
“Yes…yes it did,” she said after a moment.   
“Then do it again,” he said. “Just throw your head back and scream.”  
“What do I say?” she asked, amused and curious.   
“You don’t have to say anything…just scream, or howl if you like,” he said. He leaned his head back and howled into the open top of the yurt. It was loud and it was startling, but he looked so free….  
Hermione joined him.   
She through her head back, dug deep into her soul and poured every emotion she had ever felt into the high-pitched wailing that joined his.   
When they stopped, they heard an answering howl in the distance and Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed.  
“Coyotes,” he said, chuckling. “how do you feel?”  
“Lighter…empty. Exhilarated?” she furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I’ve been numb for so long that I don’t know how to identify my own feelings anymore.”  
“I think that once you’ve dealt with depression and anxiety that the way you used to identify your feelings changes. It’s not really numbness…just an evolution of experience,” he said. “Or at least that’s how I see things now.”  
“You have a lot of wisdom, Draco. You surprised me today,” she said. “With the families and especially with the kids.”  
“I love kids,” he said. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’d have a house filled with them if I could!”  
“Why can’t you?” she asked.   
“I need to find a good woman first, a good mother. Someone who will love me and all my faults,” he said quietly. “What about you?”  
“Kids?” she asked. “I guess I always thought that I would have children, but I’m not getting any younger and…well, I am not an easy woman to love.”  
“Who told you that? Weasely? Potter?” he asked angrily.  
“No one, its just…” she paused, her brow furrowing as she looked for an explanation. “I’m opinionated, stubborn, I like to be right…I am moody, and I am sad, and I don’t always know why. Sometimes anxiety comes on me out of nowhere and I can’t really explain the reason, just that it is what it is. It’s easier to love someone normal I suppose.”  
“That’s shite and you know it,” Draco said. “Loving anyone is hard. Maybe being with someone with mental health issues adds a different layer to how the relationship is navigated, but it doesn’t make anyone less loveable.”   
He said it with such vehemence that Hermione felt it, like a chill running down her spine that caused goosebumps to ripple across her skin.  
“Besides, you know what psychologist say, right?” he shifted his tone and she could detect humor.  
“What?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.  
“Men like crazy women, better in bed they say,” he winked at her and chuckled when she frowned.  
“That’s not true!” she said.  
“Actually, there are several articles about it. You should look into it,” he said in all seriousness.  
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” she blushed.  
“Long time, eh?”   
Hermione shrugged and leaned back to look up at the sky through the roof opening. Draco accio’d a towel and tucked it beneath her head for comfort. She turned her head towards him and their eyes locked.  
“You?” she asked, softly.   
“A bit,” he answered. “Began to see that I wasn’t going to find the answers to my emotional issues by trying to lose myself in the wrong people.”  
“I tried to find it in solitude,” she said. “And its funny but I feel like I’ve made the most progress in the last few weeks with you. Why is that?”  
“Because you aren’t emotionally invested in me,” he said honestly. “You’ve never cared about how I see you, or what I think about you. It was the same with me and Jack. I didn’t care if they liked me, or if they thought I was a spoiled little rich boy. And they didn’t care about what I could give them, what I could do for them, who my family was…they just saw a lost soul who needed someone.”  
“I care,” she said quietly. “I care about what you think of me…I care about how you feel.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Do you care if I kiss you?” he asked.  
“Yes, only because it’s been a long time and I don’t know if I remember how,” she replied, her voice raspier than before.   
“Lets see,” he said as he leaned towards her.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Midnight Blue—

“Do you care if I kiss you?” he asked.  
“Yes, only because it’s been a long time and I don’t know if I remember how,” she replied, her voice raspier than before.   
“Let’s see,” he said as he leaned towards her.

It seemed as if an eternity passed waiting for his lips to touch hers. She held her breath, her body tense with anticipation. Or was it fear?   
Either way she wanted it.   
“Breathe, Hermione,” he said softly, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. “And open your eyes.”   
She hadn’t even realized that she was squeezing them so tightly until he said it. As soon as she opened them she could see him, his face a mere inch from hers, the tips of their noses nearly touching. She could smell the wine on his breath, feel each exhale. She could see each spiky little eyelash that framed his bright blue eyes.   
And then, everything blurred as he closed the distance and brushed his lips lightly over hers. He didn’t press, it was barely a whisper of contact, but her stomach did a somersault that had her gasping.   
“You okay?” he asked softly against her lips. She nodded and he pressed again, a gentle nudging of his lips against hers. He was patient, gentle as he coaxed a response from her.   
She sat there, her senses reeling, not responding, just accepting his kiss, feeling the softness against her own. It felt foreign, but so good. Warmth that had nothing to do with the hot spring began to spread through her. It started in her stomach and began to move through her limbs.   
It pooled in the place between her legs and she had to shift slightly in her seat. That tingle, that heavy aching feeling inside her grew and she leaned into him.  
The only contact was their lips pressed into each other, and she wanted more. She slid her hand up to rest against the center of his chest as she parted her lips beneath his and was able to taste him for the first time.   
The sweet, spicy flavor of the wine he had drunk flowed into her mouth with the gentle penetration of his tongue. He wasn’t aggressive with his exploration of her mouth, instead he moved slowly, as if he wasn’t just kissing her, but savoring her.   
They kissed slowly, the passion building between them but not overwhelming them. Beneath her hand she could feel his heart racing, but he never moved to touch her or press the kiss further than just making out beneath the stars above them.   
It wasn’t until the heat—both from their rising passions and the hot spring—began to get to her that Hermione pulled back.  
“I can’t breathe,” she said laughing softly. “It’s hot!”  
“I’ll say,” he replied. Hermione looked at his heavy-lidded eyes and again felt that flip in her stomach.   
“Heat stroke hot, not sexy hot,” she laughed as she fanned her face. “Can we move to somewhere less…hot?”   
“We can go anywhere you want, you make the rules here,” he said. He stood and Hermione was suddenly face to face with the resulting evidence of their little snogging session. His bathers were stretched taught over the length of his arousal, outlining the shape and size of his erection and leaving very little to the imagination. “Sorry, he has a mind of his own.”  
Draco didn’t move immediately, letting her look her fill. She didn’t hurry, despite her discomfort. She let her eyes travel slowly over his abdomen, taking in the tattoo of a blazing sun around his navel, the definition of his lean muscled body. His chest had another tattoo, runes of protection.   
“You work out,” she said hoarsely.   
“It helps me work out my stress,” he said, reaching his hand out to her. She took it, but paused.  
“I don’t…” she said. “I mean…I’m not in shape…” She was suddenly very aware of her body. She wasn’t a young woman anymore and she had a figure more representative of a woman approaching middle age. And anti-depressants aren’t always conducive to a fit figure.  
“I like your shape just fine,” Draco said as he gave her a little tug and pulled her to her feet. He rested his hands on her hips just below the water and kissed her nose gently. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I like all women’s bodies. They are all beautiful in their own ways. As long as you are healthy, don’t worry about such things because they don’t matter. At least not to me.”  
“But men like…”  
“Not this man,” he said. “This man likes how your hips fill my hands, how soft they are.” He slid his hands up slowly to her waist, “This man likes how your waist curves in and how your belly is soft against my cock. I want to hold you closer, to press against that softness,” his tone was low and sensual as he did just that, pulling her closer against him and pressing into the softness of her belly. “This man likes how your breasts fill out that bathing suit, soft and round. I want to see them as you lean over me, watch them move as I make love to you,” he said as his fingertips skirted the sides of her breasts. He didn’t cup her or touch her in an overtly sexual manner, but he might as well have. Her body clenched and pulsed as if he had just hearing his words.  
“Can’t you feel it?” he asked, pressing a little more against her as his fingers journeyed up along the side of her neck to gently tilt up her chin. “I may be able to lie with my words, but my body isn’t lying to you, Hermione. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I caught you smoking grass on the beach.”  
“Its medicinal,” she muttered. Draco laughed; he couldn’t help it. She had to justify it because that was just who she was.   
“Whatever,” he said softly, “I have not lied to you a single time, Hermione. And I won’t. To me you are perfect. Physically, mentally, in every way and I want you, but only if you want me too.”  
“I do,” she managed to mouth the words, but sound didn’t come out.   
“But?” Draco prodded gently.  
“What if I am not good at this?” she asked nervously. “What if…sometimes medicines have side effects and even though you really want to it just doesn’t work.”  
“Are you afraid of disappointing me or yourself?” he asked.  
“Both.”  
Draco stepped up onto the bench and then out of the hot spring, pulling Hermione behind him. He grabbed a nearby towel and gently wrapped it around her shoulders. He led her to the large pillowed mattress and with a wave of his hand he dimmed the lights before he knelt beside her.  
“I understand why you are nervous. I really do. I’ll be honest, half the time when I was amid the darkness I couldn’t perform. Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the depression, I don’t know…but I get it. And maybe things won’t work, maybe we just hold each other and touch each other and just be,” he said. “Or maybe we have to work a little harder to get you there, which I can tell you I wouldn’t mind at all if it takes all night because I want to explore every inch of you intimately.”  
“Draco!” she chided, her cheeks flushing.   
“Or maybe, what you felt when we were kissing in the spring, is just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe everything works just fine, and we literally burst apart because it’s so damned good between us?” he tugged at her towel, a whispered spell rendering her suit dry.  
“But what if it doesn’t?”  
“Then we try and try again,” he whispered before leaning in and lightly kissing her neck, just below her ear. With gentle hands he laid her back on the plush pillows, all the while pressing soft, feathery kisses along the side of her neck. “I want you to do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t close your eyes.”  
“What?” she asked, somewhat confused. The feel of his lips on the sensitive skin of her neck had turned her thoughts to mush. Suddenly she wasn’t overthinking everything because she had stopped thinking at all. She could only feel.  
“Don’t close your eyes. Keep them open, and keep them on me,” he said. He slid his fingertips beneath the strap of the swimsuit and let the backs of his fingers stroke along her skin. “Can you do that for me, Hermione? Can you keep your eyes on me?”  
“Um..y—yes,” she stammered hoarsely.   
Draco smiled and moved to lay along side of her. He pushed the strap off of her shoulder then did the same with the other one.  
“Good, because I want you to watch me,” he said, tucking his fingers into her cleavage and then slowly tugging the top of the suit down to her waist. “Beautiful,” he sighed at the sight of her breasts. They were round, soft, and looked as if they would fit perfectly into his hand. He stared, mesmerized by the rosy tips that began to draw tight. Was she cold? Or was she excited?  
Hermione drew her hands up to cover herself, suddenly shy beneath the heat of his gaze. He made a tsking sound and pushed her hands away.   
“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t hide from me.” He leaned over and kissed each nipple lightly before moving back up to take her lips.   
This time he didn’t hold back, he kissed her long and deep. His tongue pressed against her lips and when she opened for him it slid along hers. She responded, tentatively at first, but then all thoughts that were not Draco vanished and she gave into him, moaning into his mouth as she returned his passion.   
She threaded her fingers through his hair, double fisting the platinum strands and holding him closer. He sucked at her bottom lip, nipped gently before he moved lower to nibble along sensitive skin of her neck.   
He pulled her skin between his teeth, sucking gently and leaving a tiny strawberry of a mark just below her ear. He licked and kissed along her collarbone and between her breasts. He dragged his tongue slowly along the sensitive skin beneath, teasing her, exciting her. It was only when she began to wiggle beath him impatiently that he took the sensitive tip of her breast into his mouth.   
He sucked gently, lightly tonguing the tip until her nails began to dig into his scalp. He ignored the little sting and slid to the other, paying equal homage.   
He looked up, never taking his mouth from her skin and saw her watching him. Her eyes reminded him of a glass of bourbon. She was panting, her lips wet and swollen from his kiss were slightly parted. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could hear her quiet sighs of pleasure.   
He watched her carefully as he slowly pushed the bathing suit lower. He watched for any indications that it was too much or that she had changed her mind as he pushed it lower over her hips and to her thighs.   
He lifted his head and smiled when she began to move her legs back and forth, moving the suit lower and then lightly kicking it away.   
“That’s my girl,” he said as his fingers danced across her abdomen. He tickled the little dip of her navel then lightly stroked the soft curve of her belly. He tickled her hips bones, his fingertips lightly stroking the rarely touched skin between them.  
She parted her legs in invitation, and Draco happily accepted, sliding his fingers over the soft patch of curls on her mons.  
He could feel the heat coming from between her thighs as he dipped his fingers lower, lightly stroking the seam of her labia before parting the lips gently and sliding into the slippery folds. She cried out, arching beneath his touch. He slid his fingers over her gently, dipping his fingertips into her opening and then dragging his fingers back up to the tight pearl of her clit.   
Her hands slid to his shoulders, her nails raking lightly along his skin as she moved beneath his touch. Her eyes were closed tightly and her brow was furrowed, “Eyes on me,” he said. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and made a frustrated little sound.   
“Hermione, look at me,” he said softly. Slowly she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He could see the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, could read the frustration in her expression. “Breathe,” he said, still stroking her gently. “Don’t stop looking at me,” he whispered. “Nothing exists but us. Only us,” he said. “Feel me,” he pressed his erection into her hip. “Do you feel how hard I am for you? How much I want you?”  
“Yes,” she whimpered, wriggling beneath him.  
“You are so slick, its going to feel so good to get inside you,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her lips softly. “But first I want to make you come,” he said. “Do you like this? Does it feel good?”  
“Oh, yes…” she said, mesmerized by his words.   
“Like this?” he asked, noting how she jolted beneath his touch when he slid his fingers on either side of the tight little bud between her legs. She moaned again so he continued, playing with her slippery flesh gently, stroking and tweaking until her eyes widened and her thighs began to tremble.  
“Oh, God…..Draco,” she cried hoarsely as orgasm washed over her. He felt her pulse beneath his fingers, her opening clasping greedily at the tips of his fingers as she rode the wave of pleasure.   
He moved quickly, shoving his bathers off and sliding between her thighs. He knew he wasn’t going to last very long, he wanted her too badly, enjoyed her response to him too much.   
As he slid into her, gently, slowly, he could feel her pulsing around him, feel the last, light tremors of her orgasm as he possessed her fully. He moved carefully, sliding in and out of her body hoping to extend her pleasure while he moved towards his own.   
She was so hot, slick and snug that he couldn’t quite focus his thoughts, much as he wanted to.   
But it was her eyes that did him in. When their gazes locked and—as corny as it sounds—he saw into her, it was over for him. His arms shook and he dropped to his elbows, unable to hold his weight off of her.   
He felt her arms go around his torso, her fingertips digging into his back; and then her legs locked around his hips and pulled him deeper into her.   
And then it wasn’t just his arms that shook, his entire body vibrated as heat raced down his spine.   
Then, everything went black for a millisecond and he was overcome, spilling into her with an intensity that bordered on painful. It lasted only seconds, but it felt like an eternity.   
She held him tight, as if she was trying to absorb every bit of him. When he could breathe again, and put a coherent thought together, he lifted away from her slightly.   
Her cheeks were glistening, and little droplets clung to her lashes from her tears. He kissed her cheeks gently, lightly brushed her lashes with his lips.  
“I’m sorry, I meant to be more careful,” he apologized. “Please, baby, don’t cry.”  
“Happy tears,” she said softly, shivering now as her body began to calm. Draco slid off her and accio’d a blanket to cover them. They laid on their sides, facing one another.   
“So…it worked just fine,” he said, smiling. Hermione laughed, blushing slightly.  
“I think I forgot what it felt like,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I…since I even wanted it or thought about it.”  
Draco reached out and laid his hand on her cheek, using his thumb he tilted her face upwards so that their eyes met.  
“You didn’t forget what it felt like because it has never been like this before. For either of us, this was special,” he said gently.   
“It was,” she agreed.  
“Just so you know, it will never be as good again with someone else,” he said, winking at her to show he was jesting.   
“And there is that Malfoy arrogance,” she laughed, “I was wondering when that would show up.”  
“Reformed bad boys aren’t interesting if they are completely reformed,” he said.  
“Is that what you are? A reformed bad boy?” she asked. “What does that make me?”  
“Oh, you were never the good girl everyone thought you were,” he said, tugging the blanket down so he could see her breasts. “I always knew there was something more beneath that smart girl façade. It was proven when I caught you getting high on the beach.”  
“Its medicinal!” she said, slapping his shoulder.   
“Sure…its been medicinal for me since I was about seventeen,” he laughed.  
“You were smoking in school?” she asked, eyes wide.  
“You were there, its lucky that I wasn’t doing more than smoking or stealing my father’s bourbon,” he said. “Do the Weasley’s still grow it? George always had the best strains.”  
“You got your…George?”   
Draco laughed and reached for her, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him.   
“I’ll share my sordid secrets with you later, but for now…” he grasped her hips and slid her down so that his newly aroused member was nestled between her thighs.  
“But…wait…” she couldn’t help but rub against him. “I want to…”  
“What you want, is to see if we can repeat our earlier result,” he said. “This isn’t a one-time thing for me, Hermione. This is just the beginning; we have all the time in the world to talk. Right now, I just want you. Now, kiss me and show me that you want me too.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER 13

Daylight—

Hermione closed the door to her beach front cottage and turned the lock. She leaned against the closed door and sighed, a smile on her face.  
Her body felt loose, and she was slightly achy between her thighs. She had spent the night with Draco and had gotten very little sleep. He had been a patient, kind, and gentle lover. He was generous, diligent, and almost obsessed with her pleasure.   
She still couldn’t believe that she had done that…with him. Never in a million years would she have considered it. He had done so much for her in such a short time, had shown so much understanding and kindness.   
She looked around the open living area and somehow the room seemed lighter, as if the daylight pouring through the windows was somehow brighter.   
But the silence was deafening.   
Suddenly she had an epiphany about her isolation.  
She wasn’t alone. She never had been. Her isolation was self-imposed. No one chased her away, no one pressed upon her, no one made her out to be a burden.   
It was her choice. She had let the voice of anxiety and depression overwhelm her and rather than reach out she had curled up in a ball of shame and hid. She had told herself that it was better for them if she wasn’t there to burden them with her problems.   
It was her problem and she had run away with it, essentially, she eloped with her darkness, hiding away with it. In many ways she had fed the stigma that surrounded mental illness.  
Then Draco showed up, disrupting her solitude and the routines that she had been clinging to with such tenacity. He showed her that it didn’t have to be a life sentence. That she could share who she was, even the darkest parts of her, with others and it would be okay.   
She didn’t have to walk it alone.   
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt the weight on her shoulders lift slightly. She hastily wiped them away and made her way to the kitchen.   
She reached into her icebox and withdrew a carton of orange juice and a bowl of fruit. She grabbed her plastic pill box from the table and quickly took her morning medication. She was feeling good, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew that just because she had a moment of clarity did not mean she was cured.  
It would be a lifetime of ups and downs, perhaps it would be a lifetime of medication and treatment, but she didn’t have to face it alone.   
That realization alone was a big win.   
When she was finished with her breakfast, she made her way to her room. She needed to shower and change her clothes.  
She needed a nap before Draco returned to get her for dinner.   
As she walked by her bed she stopped and looked at the bottle of sleeping pills sitting on the beside table.   
She hadn’t needed them last night. What little sleep she had gotten had been from sheer exhaustion between bouts of passion.   
Hermione laughed out loud as she entered the en suite and turned on the shower. She was happy, giddy even as she undressed and stepped into the steamy cubicle.   
As the warm water caressed her skin she sighed, closed her eyes and lost herself in the memory of the night before. She felt the ghost of Draco’s lips on hers, of the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the feel of him inside her, his touch, and the soft, sexy words he spoke as he made her his in every way.   
She felt her skin prickle and her sex begin to heat. How? She hadn’t felt desire or need in nearly a year. She had tried to force it, masturbating only to end up breathless and frustrated when her body didn’t respond.  
But it had responded to Draco. Over and over again it had responded. Her response took a little longer at times, but it had come.   
Draco had a way of making her feel less guilty for her delayed response, she didn’t feel as if she was somehow at fault.   
It wasn’t her fault. None of it was. The anxiety, the depression, the medical side effects, none of it was her fault.  
How had he done that?   
The boy who had tormented her, who had been on the receiving end of her anger more than once, who had been the worst sort of bully…how was it that he had become part of her recovery?  
How was it that he had reminded her of who she was?   
Upon finishing her shower Hermione went through her normal routine for her hair and skin, then changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized jumper. Just as she was about to lie down for a rest, she felt a tingle move through her body and she felt a pull towards the chest of drawers.   
Slowly, she opened the drawer and drew back the velvet cloth. She stared down at her wand, still nestled in the cradle of velvet where it had rested for nearly a year. The runes in the cloth glowed and she felt the hum of the crystals surrounding it.   
Without thought and without fear she reached for it, her fingers wrapping around the vining handle, her thumb sliding into the familiar, smoothed groove. She lifted it from the protection of the drawer and immediately felt the rush of power zip through her body, like static dancing across her skin. A slight breeze lifted her hair and she felt almost comforted by the familiar feel of her wand in her hand.   
She smiled and called upon a spell to pull the blinds closed, then another to turn down the blankets on her bed. It felt good to use her magic, even if it was only for simple spells. She bumped the drawer closed with her hip and went to her bed, tucking her wand comfortably beneath her pillow before she laid down and snuggled into her bed. 

Sleep came quickly. Without medication. Without nightmares.   
For the first time, in a very long time, Hermione rested comfortably in the knowledge that she had made a breakthrough.   
She believed she was on a path to healing.  
She was coming back to life.


	14. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Blue Amethyst—  
One year later—

Hermione stood in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She winced when she heard another loud boom crashing in the other room.   
Shaking her head, she leaned forward and brushed her fingertip over her eyebrow, smoothing them down. The light reflected off the large diamond and amethyst rings on her finger and she smiled, looking down at them.   
In his own words, Draco had wifed her roughly six months into their relationship.   
It had been such a whirlwind of a year.   
She had returned to the magical world, fearful and anxious about the welcome she would receive.   
She needn’t have been concerned because her friends and chosen family had welcomed her with open arms. They were so relived to see her and to hug her and to know that she was alright. They listened to her truth and apologized if they had ever made her feel as if they weren’t there for her. It was such a powerful moment, so heartbreaking that she had cried for several days after.   
The reaction to her relationship with Draco had been interesting. There was a lot of confusion among her friends, and more than a little irritation from Lucius Malfoy who was convinced that this was just another way that Draco was trying to annoy him.  
But with time and exposure, everyone had come to peace with their relationship, they had accepted it and had happily attended the very small and intimate wedding in Las Vegas.   
Hermione resigned from her position at the ministry of magic. She was devoting her time and energy to create a foundation to offer help to members of the wizarding community. Something that offered them not just magical solutions and institutionalization but offered therapy and muggle medicine options as well. 

Another crash sounded and Hermione frowned at her reflection. After much debate Hermione and Draco had decided they would settle in the little cottage on the beach where they had reconnected. The large mansion at the end of the beach was sold and Draco had made a very generous offer to the woman Hermione had been renting from.   
However, a small one-bedroom cottage wasn’t sufficient so renovations were in progress.   
Suddenly, Draco appeared in the mirror behind her, leaning against the doorway.   
“The new door is being installed,” he said.   
“I heard,” she responded as she smoothed her hair back from her face.   
“You okay?” he asked, noting her strained expression.   
“I’m good, just thinking about things,” she said with a tight smile. He could tell she was anxious.  
“The doctor said that there were medicines that you can take,” he said as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands over the just beginning to show bump of her belly. “If you need something don’t hold it in.”  
“I’m doing okay, I promise,” she said, tilting her head to the side and staring at his hands on her belly. “I was just thinking about how far I’ve come is all. How much things have changed,” another loud crash and a man swearing filled the air, “How much things continue to change.”  
“Change is good,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “I like this change. I can’t wait until my little girl gets here.”  
“It could be a little boy, you know.”  
“I say girl…I was thinking of the name Jude,” he said.  
“For a boy?”  
“Boy or girl…I like the name. Jude Malfoy.” He smiled at her in the reflection of the mirror and she felt the familiar warmth of her love for him wash through her.   
“I like it,” she said, resting her hands on top of his.   
“Mmmm, have I told you today that I love you?” he asked.  
“Only a dozen times,” she said, leaning her head back against his shoulder. No one had ever loved her like Draco did. Through her ups and downs, the light and the dark, she felt his love like a blanket wrapped around her. She never doubted it. He wouldn’t let her.   
“I’ve been busy,” he said. “I love you.”  
“And I you,” she whispered softly as she turned around and wrapped her arms around him. 

She wasn’t completely cured, but she was nearly whole. And that was enough.


End file.
